Nothing On My Tongue
by riveroad
Summary: "Winnie just wants it to be easy. But as she watches Spike leave, things don't exactly FEEL easy." In which Spike is stealthily persistent and Winnie figures out that where you start off doesn't have to be where you end up. Spoilers for Season 5, rated for language and suggestive situations.
1. Chapter 1

Winnie likes what she does, likes the stress of the job, the pace, likes the people she works with, there's actually precious little she doesn't like. She hangs out with Jules sometimes, Paul from Team Two, used to go to movies with Lew and Spike, asks Sarge for advice when it comes to her career.

After Lew, Spike fell off the planet a bit. She couldn't blame him, let him be, never pushed, missed his friendship in silence. And then he called her, the night after his first shift back, asked her about something she can't even remember now and just like that, she had him back. Kind of. They go for coffee sometimes but it's not often and she doesn't touch why that might be, thinks that maybe it's because it was Spike and Lew and Her and Lew and without Lew, they just don't know how to figure it out. She thinks about it sometimes, the fact that they talk on the phone some nights, fall asleep on the phone some nights, that he knows an actual shit ton about her, about her brother who died when she was a kid, about her best friend, about the course she's taking. He talks too though, about Mac and Lesley, about his childhood friend Taylor, about his dad. She's the only one who knew, before Toth came in and broke open all of those scars.

She's still thrown off when Spike asks her out.

She's learned to ignore the smell of his deodorant (god, she feels like a creep but she knows it's not aftershave, knows old spice when she smells it), the way he leans over her desk, the way he can always make her laugh. They work together, he doesn't like her _like that _and come on, she knows she's not his type (ok, so maybe she's not _exactly _sure what his type is but she's pretty sure the dorky girl who works behind the desk and who is the exact opposite of glamorous is not it). Her sister always jokes that she's his work-wife. Winnie doesn't know whether to laugh or be horrified that she's evidently talked enough about this guy for her sister to make that comment.

He's a friendly guy, always talking or laughing, flirting with the women on the other teams (never Jules though, has always been fiercely protective of her - Winnie's got to be messed in the head because she kind of melts over it) and it actually takes her a second to realize he's asking her out and not just being Spike.

Which, like, when she thinks about it later probably makes her one of the dumbest people in the world. In her defence, she kind of figured that after that many years, well, he was never going to do it. She's never been able to figure out if the feeling she got from it was relief or disappointment.

She has no idea what in the actual hell is coming out of her mouth because obviously her mouth is hard-wired to her brain and that's precisely what her brain is saying but the rest of her? The rest of her is lighting up like the CN Tower, neon sign with a hundred exclamation marks after a three letter word.

God. That rule. That stupid stupid rule. A rule that wasn't a rule when she was in college, when she took the dispatching classes, when she was studying her ass off and working retail and living off ramen noodles, when she first started and would flinch every time she heard a siren over the headset. Became a rule When she dated a cop for the first and only time, a cop who was perfectly nice, decent on paper but a total head case in secret, who, by association made _her _feel like a head case. Because she'd be cool and collected and intelligent at work and then she'd shove on her sunglasses, get on the streetcar and start tearing up, burst through her front door and start dry heaving and crying and thinking about all the calls that had ended badly. What she'd needed was a break and what she'd got-well, it hadn't been that. That cop had helped make her into a head case who had to have her younger sister fly twenty hours to come and save her.

So she made her rule, sitting on the floor of a motel with her baby sister, crying her eyes out and confessing the past two years, how she'd lost all her friends, was afraid of always saying the wrong things, or doing the wrong things, of setting off the person who claimed to love her, her hands shaking into the clothes in her duffle. She didn't want hard, she wanted easy, easy like Melanie had it with her boyfriend, just two people wanting to be together and just getting on with it. Mel had cried too. Winnie remembers that. And that feeling of wanting something easy, well, it only got worse when she moved to SRU, saw Sam and Jules, always making hard choices, always putting their lives on the line, always always fighting to be together.

Winnie just wants it to be easy.

But as she watches Spike leave, things don't exactly _feel _easy.

She thinks it'll be awkward the next day, like maybe Spike won't want to hang around her anymore (like if a guy shot her down like that, she'd possibly never come back, find a different job scooping ice cream or walking dogs or something) but he's the same, still making her laugh, still leaning over her desk, still flashing her that grin every time he walks past (and honest to god, how unfair is the dimple? Like _so _unfair).

Well it doesn't matter, is what she tells herself, because everything's back to normal and if she feels a bit, well, like she just missed the winning lottery ticket by one number or something, it really doesn't matter.

The thing that's really making her squirm though is the fact that Leah keeps giving her these encouraging looks, like she's about a second away from making shooing motions with her hands. Winnie thinks about how mortified Spike would be if he knew and compensates by being super-professional, straight backed, hair neat, uniform starched. She doesn't know if it makes things better or worse because Ed gives her funny looks and at the end of shift, asks her if she's feeling all right.

She stops putting starch on her uniform. Let's things ease back into how they used to be.

Except three weeks later, she suddenly notices that Spike stands a little bit too close, has her backing up so that she isn't talking right into his neck. He brings her coffee, draws doodles on the edge of her pad of paper, steals her pens, reaches around her instead of asking her to move, offers her rides home that she never accepts. He sends her silly texts, ridiculous cartoons, funny tweets he's read. Winnie has zero idea what to make of it, can't for the life of her remember if this is how it was before or not. Maybe it was the same. Only now it _means _stuff. Maybe. Possibly. Or it doesn't and she said no and now, she's just his friend and this is how he treats his friends. She doesn't know whether to be relieved or really really fucking depressed.

She thinks about it sometimes, thinks about what might have happened if she'd said yes, if they'd gone to dinner, if he'd have kissed her good night. It makes her cheeks flush so she forces herself not to think about what might have happened after that.

Winnie always slips her workout in around whatever team she's working with. She hates people talking to her when she's running, likes the quiet, especially when it's first thing in the morning. But at this very second she's fully rethinking her entire life's choices because Leah is working out next to her and Winnie has this uncomfortable feeling that the other woman's going to say something. Call her out on her bullshit, maybe. Ask her if she needs to be medicated because a few weeks ago, she turned down like the greatest guy on the planet. Not that she's still thinking about it.

"You okay?"

"Fine. You?" Actually, she got caught in the rain and her socks are wet.

Leah raises an eyebrow, purses her lips at her. "Not sleeping well?"

Fucking profilers. Honest to god, she almost wishes these people were just a little more crap at their jobs. "Long week."

"Hmm."

It's excruciating, Leah not looking at her, counting her reps, this weird silence hanging between them. "You want to ask me why I said no?"

"If you want to tell me."

"It's messy, dating cops. I just...I want to keep my professional and personal lives separate."

"Hmm."

Winnie kind of thinks that Leah's seeing right through her and it really kind of sucks. "Yeah."

"He's a really wonderful person, you know," Leah says mildly. "He'd probably be the same way in a relationship."

What she wants to say is a bitchy, 'well _you _date him then' but what actually comes out is, "Yeah. He is."

Leah raises her eyebrows and then goes back to her free weights.

Shift is long, really long, the kind where you hope the ceiling's going to cave in on your head just so you can go home. She gets through it with a steady diet of coffee and Advil. Boss has her pulling records from six different Ministries, running plates, checking traffic cams. She really has to bite her tongue not to sound rude. She has zero idea what's gotten into her but chalks it up to a night of bad sleep and wet socks.

Sam shoots her a sympathetic smile when Team One heads in the door, Ed a wink. Boss pauses by her desk, tells her, "Good work today, Winnie."

If it's possible, it all just makes her feel a bit worse, like she's been having visions of throwing things at him and then he stops by and is super nice to her. Makes her feel like an asshole.

Spike's last, gives her a bottle of fruit juice and a grin. She stares at the juice in her hand, eyes following him until he disappears into the locker room. It's probably not normal to feel like you're on the verge of tears just because someone hands you your favourite flavour of juice.

She takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly and then turns back to her disaster of a desk. Wonders if anyone would notice if all her notes from the afternoon just ended up in the trash. She categorizes everything methodically, copies it out in writing someone could actually read, prints the transcripts and the pictures from the traffic cams, binds it all together and hands it to Boss as he's on his way by.

He smiles at her. "Have a good night, Winnie. Hope you brought your umbrella, it's cats and dogs out there."

She thinks about her wet socks and sighs because well, no, she didn't but she's not going to tell him that.

And then like clockwork, Spike stops by, hair still damp, asks her if she wants a ride home. It's raining, has been all afternoon. She stares at him, at the friendly smile (the _dimple_, dammit), the dark eyes and hears herself saying, "Sure, do you mind just giving me a few minutes? Sid's running late." She does her best not to look at Sarge, like somehow she's been caught doing something she shouldn't be doing. Which is stupid.

If she wasn't so aware of her heart beating out of her chest, she'd probably have smiled at the way Spike's eyes widen, how his jaw drops a little.

She spends an agonizing five minutes in the locker room thinking that doesn't it just figure that she has nothing remotely cute in her locker and seriously, what was she thinking buying these jeans? And furthermore, why does it even matter, it's just _Spike_. She takes a deep breath as she walks out, finds herself smiling when she sees him chatting to Sid, both laughing.

"Ready to go?"

She nods, swings her bag up higher over her shoulder and has this vision of herself wiping out on the stairs.

Winnie wonders what it means that she always expects things between them to be weird and they never are. They talk about pie on the way to his car, it's easy, the way things always are between them and when he opens the door for her, she can't keep the smile off her face.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He raises an eyebrow at her, gives her this grin and she giggles (ok seriously, who the fuck has she become?), shakes her head and gets into the car. She watches him walk around the front to the driver's side and wow ok, seriously, is it normal to want to jump your co-worker for opening a car door? Tom from Team Three gave her a ride home once in a blizzard - he opened the door for her too and she certainly didn't want to make out with him. Not that she wants to _make out _with Spike, it's just, you know. Nice. She chalks it all up to a long shift, puts the thought out of her mind.

They talk about movies on the way home, how Winnie loves a good shoot-em-up, how Spike can't concentrate, just looks for the inaccuracies in them and she finds herself relaxing, the knot of tension in her spine unfurling and before she knows it, he's pulling up to her apartment building, putting the car into park and turning to grin at her.

Seriously, what is up with her chest? It's like a bird's taken up residence inside the cavity of her rib cage.

"Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome. I thought you were going to insist on walking in the rain and getting wet."

God, is she _blushing_? Possibly, she might be blushing. She coughs. "Uh. Yeah. Well. Um. I'll see you tomorrow." Brilliant. She's clearly brilliant.

"Sleep tight."

Maybe if he would stop smiling, her brain would return to her head, stop leaking out of her ears. "Um. You too, bye." She gets out of the car, waves at him, feels super self-conscious as he waits for her to walk up to the front door and rummage in her purse for her keys.

She gets the door open, waves at him without dropping her keys or her purse, forgoes the elevator and books it up the stairs. She pauses outside her door, slightly sweaty and shaking her head at herself. It's just _Spike_, for fuck's sake. What has gotten into her?

She's sitting on the counter picking her way through a dinner that might have been good a couple of days ago. The caller id says Melli-who-likes-jelly-bellies (quite clearly NOT programmed by Winnie) and like always, it makes her grin as she answers.

"So what is this, you suddenly too busy to call?"

Winnie rolls her eyes, can't keep the grin off her face. "Would I ever be too busy for my favourite sister?"

"I'm your only sister."

"All true."

"What's up?"

"You called me." Winnie hops off the counter, makes a face at her plate and then scrapes it into the garbage. "How's work? Le boyfriend?"

"All good!" she chirps and then she's off, hundred words a minute.

Winnie tunes her out a little as she folds her laundry, phone cradled between her ear and shoulder, thinks about how different they are, her sister who took off for Asia as soon as she could, who lives with her boyfriend of a hundred years, who adores everyone she meets, is more open and honest than Winnie even knows how to be.

"What is it?"

"Hm?"

"Win...ok I don't want to be rude but I just told you about the sweet leather skirt I bought and you didn't even say anything."

She laughs. "Ok, I'm sorry. Just thinking."

"Yeah? Is the fire alarm going off?"

"Hilarious," Winnie says dryly.

There's an expectant pause. "So? What's been going on?"

"Not much, really. Just work. Same old."

"Same old?" her sister snorts. "Sure. Okay. And what about that guy?"

"What guy?" Winnie honestly has to rack her brain to think if she was seeing someone the last time they spoke.

"You know which one. The one you work with. The cute one who's always in the news for some award."

It's stupid for her to be embarrassed. Like what is she even embarrassed about? Maybe some girls would find him cute. He _is _cute. In, like, a totally objective way. "You mean Spike? He's uh...he's good."

There's a pause and for a second, Winnie thinks she might actually have convinced her sister not to- "Oh my god, what happened? Did you totally jump him in the bathroom at work? Or where they keep all their equipment? It was in the back of one of those SUVs, wasn't it. Ugh, Winnie, seriously, how cliché is that?" Winnie can hear the grin in Mel's voice.

"What? No, we didn't-nothing...ok, that's so not at all what I said. Nothing happened!"

"Yet?"

"Ever!"

"Really." Her sister sounds so amused, like she doesn't believe her for a second.

"Really." She swallows, pauses, finds she _really _can't lie by omission and says, "He uh...he asked me out." There's a beat. "Why are you laughing?"

"Nothing going on my left tit!"

"I said no!"

Mel keeps laughing, starts talking about six times and keeps interrupting herself to laugh some more.

"Melanie, seriously, it's not like that."

"Well why the hell not?"

"I don't date cops." It's a really good reason, Winnie thinks. You have rules. You follow them. It's not stupid.

"That's really stupid." Her sister sounds unimpressed, like Winnie just told her she's got to spend the rest of her life eating nothing but broccoli.

"Mel!"

"I'm sorry," she says with another snicker, "but seriously, how do you tell yourself this shit and then just follow it blindly?"

"We can't all make off-the-cuff decisions and have them work out."

"They're not off-the-cuff - I just don't make ridiculous choices and then follow them when they're not working out."

Winnie doesn't really know what to say to that one. Because it's true. It's like she doesn't know when to give up, even when she's crying every single night and doesn't ever want to go home to the person she lives with.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have...is that really the reason you said no?"

"Of course!"

"Not because of Officer Psycho? Because that was a _long _time ago. And this Spike dude? Not that half-wit traffic-cop."

"Mel!"

"Ok ok, sorry. He wasn't a traffic cop."

"Mel!"

"Win!" she mimics and then sighs. Winnie can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "So if he weren't a cop, you'd be married with three kids?"

Winnie doesn't even bother responding to that.

"You're going to shoot someone down because of their completely decent, honest job?"

"I didn't 'shoot him down'," Winnie mutters.

"You said no. That's pretty much a shoot down. Is he still talking to you?"

"He's not thirteen. And we work together. He even gave me a ride home today!"

"Maybe he's trying to wear you down."

She's blushing. Something about the idea of him going to the trouble of- "Mel...it's not like there's a shortage of girls hanging around him."

"Yeah, I really don't think this is about a one night stand. You don't ask out someone you work with unless you're really willing to put it on the line."

Winnie swallows hard. "Yeah well. It's a totally moot point. Because nothing happened and nothing's _going _to happen."

Mel pauses, sounds like she's picking her words carefully. "This isn't like last time, Winnie. You're older, you're not going to get taken in by a uniform, by some guy who's going to be secretly battling PTSD, hiding it with scotch and taking it out on his girlfriend. You're not going to have to handhold him. Or save him."

She rubs a hand over her face, thinks about how much it sucks that they're even talking about this. "Mel, just leave it."

"Okay. Okay. But you know, all I want is for you to be happy. Of all the people on the planet, I think you deserve it."

"You're biased."

"Doesn't matter. Ugh, can you hold on a second?" Winnie can hear yelling in the background and then very distinctly, 'I'm on the PHONE, why don't you make an executive decision on that chocolate bar and fill me in on it later? Jesus!' It makes her laugh, like there's still some kind of normalcy out there in the world. "Sorry. Seriously, sometimes I wonder about him. He's got to enjoy having me yell at him because sometimes he goes out of his way to make it happen!" Even as she says it, Winnie can hear how pleased her sister sounds, how happy. She wants that too, she thinks dimly. "Ok, back to what I was saying. Every time I talk to you, our conversation invariably falls onto this Spike character, you tell me something funny he said or did, how he sent you some ridiculous text and honestly, sometimes, it's not even that funny but you always find it hilarious. And now he's asking you out and your response is really going to be no?"

"It's a rule," Winnie says weakly.

"You sound like a broken record. Fine fine, have your rules. Then, when you end up dying at 70 ALONE, you can tell me how all those rules worked out for you."

Winnie rolls her eyes, firmly tells her sister that it's not like that, they talk about how Mel's going to Japan for a long weekend, about this cat she's thinking of buying and when they're about to hang up, Mel mentions it again. "Just think about throwing your rule out the window, okay? Just for a second. What if he's like the perfect guy?"

Winnie bites her tongue.

"Hello! What if he's the perfect guy?"

She still doesn't say anything. Her mouth's open though, like if she can just find the words, they'll come right out, no effort at all.

"...You think he's the perfect guy?" Mel falls silent and then just sighs. "Okay, Win. Well. I gotta go. Work time. Just think about what I said ok? I love you. A lot." She sounds sad.

"Love you too. Miss you."

Winnie stares around at her apartment, wonders what Spike would think if he actually saw the inside. She brushes her teeth, gets into bed and wonders what this feeling is. Just before she falls asleep, it occurs to her that maybe she's lonely, like maybe her apartment would be better filled with noise and laughter, silly stories and exaggerations. Maybe with someone reading passages to her out of books about bombs. Or something. She doesn't know.


	2. Chapter 2

Winnie's running late, has forgotten her wallet and her coffee and is now facing a day without either.

She checks her phone as she's standing on the streetcar, wedged between a man who's all elbows and a kid who seems to have something against taking his backpack off.

Two messages, both from Spike. The first is some garbled mess she can't make out sent way after she fell asleep (she has a very dim recollection of rolling over, looking at her phone and falling back asleep holding it) and the second-well, the second makes her burst out laughing. She gets some filthy looks from the people around her, forces her mouth shut and reads the message again.

_'Concert was good - minus the part where Sam and I had to stop a fight. Some guy dropped a beer on the head of the guy in front of him. Guy covered in beer = totally irrational, screaming, etc, ending up leaving. 10 mins before the end the guy who dropped the beer goes "BEST CONCERT EVER. You know what would make it better? Spilling beer on someone!" Hilarious.'_

Winnie thinks about the size of the large cups at the ACC and has to smother her giggle again. She runs from the stop all the way to work and is still snickering to herself when she finally gets to sit down.

"What, no coffee this morning?"

She grins, looks up even as she signs in to her computer. "Woke up late. Someone sent me a drunken bbm this morning at 1. Totally disturbed my sleep."

"Yeah, you should ditch that guy," Spike says, grinning and not looking remotely sorry.

"Glad the show was good. Minus the fight."

"You shoulda come."

She wrinkles her nose and says teasingly, "To see some aging rockers in their 60s? Pass."

Spike clutches at his chest melodramatically.

"Hey, are you coming or what?" Sam calls from the entrance to the gym.

Spike rolls his eyes at her. "Duty calls."

Winnie returns his smile, watches him walk away absent-mindedly before shaking her head at herself for being still-tired and a bit dozy and getting down to work. She sees Sarge and Spike speaking later, when they're done their workout and are heading to the locker room to get dressed. Sarge is rolling his eyes but he has a silly grin on his face and Winnie wonders what that's all about before she hears Team Four in her headset asking her a question about former drug busts in a particular four-block radius.

Spike appears out of nowhere, all kevlar and 'Scarlatti' on his uniform, phone in one hand and his face all animated. It makes her breath catch actually, you know, just for a second. He waves at her, heads out to the garage. She's still thinking about that when the rest of the team appears, when Sarge says something about patrolling and it doesn't actually occur to her to ask why Spike left before everyone else.

The Barn gets quiet after that and she has time to read all her emails before she gets up to copy something. When she gets back to her desk, there's an XL triple triple next to her phone and a paper bag sitting on her keyboard, still warm to the touch. She frowns, opens it with the tips of her fingers (it's just, you know, unnamed packages and bomb calls, hay and grass and whatever) but all she smells is warm bread. It's actually a step up from that, thick cut toast slathered with butter and an eco-friendly box filled with eggs (over hard, the only way she'll eat eggs). She stares at it stupidly for a second, at the plastic cutlery wrapped in paper napkins, at the spoon sitting on top of the napkin, at the two single-serve packages of peanut butter. She wonders who here knows she likes to eat peanut butter with a spoon and just like that, the light bulb flickers on.

She sinks into her chair, the thought that how funny it is that someone's thoughtfulness can just totally make your whole day better almost overshadowed by wondering why he would go out of his way. She fiddles with her phone for a second and then sends the message before she can over think it. _'Thanks for that – you're a mind-reader sometimes.'_

Her phone lights up almost immediately, Spike telling her not to worry about it and to eat it before it gets cold. She frowns, like how does he know she was already thinking of ways to smuggle ten bucks into his wallet? She puts her phone back down, still thinking about how thoughtful he can be, the thought making her squirm a little. She drinks half her coffee while wondering if she should message him back, nibbling on the ends of her toast, or if she really needs to (she's never gotten all that stuff figured out, like when to stop sending thank you notes, if you're supposed to thank someone for thanking you, probably ends up going too far, still wonders sometimes if he thinks about that night he asked her out, know that he's definitely not still interested).

The call that comes in isn't the kind that usually worries her. It's a jumper (ok not that she isn't _worried_ about the girl, it's just less worry than when a member of her team has a gun to the head) and it should be straight forward. It should be.

Sarge is negotiating, saying all the right things (Winnie's read all the manuals, all the books, likes to know how things are going to go before they actually get there) but evidently it's not right enough for the vic because she lets go and it's over. The exclamation that Sarge lets out sends a chill up Winnie's spine, makes her freeze for a moment before she pre-empts the things her team is going to need and starts sending out EMS. She can almost see the scene in front of her: it'll be Jules who drops down to check the pulse, who'll shake her head and look away. Winnie sends the coroner too.

She thinks maybe she can read those looks on their faces when they come through the door, all of them slow, all of them quiet. She knew it was a bad idea waking up this morning and this-

Well this just proves it.

She finishes her shift quietly, tells Team Three that Team One's still debriefing and they're going to have to find somewhere else to discuss their tac plans, ignores Gina when she jokingly says that Winnie always favours Team One. Winnie does, it's true. It stopped bothering her a long time ago.

Sid arrives to relieve her and she gets changed slowly, doesn't smile at Jules or Leah when they come in but pats them both on the arm when she's leaving the locker room. Her file is on the edge of the desk when she comes out; bag slung over her shoulder and the door to the room Team One was using open. Sarge is sitting at the head of the table, staring out the window. Everyone else is gone.

She sets the folder in front of him and it takes him a moment to look at her, as if he didn't even notice her come in.

"Thanks."

She twists the strap of her bag in her fingers, forces a smile, wishes she could tell him that it wasn't his fault, thinks it would be overstepping the boundaries between them.

He looks up at her and then back to that spot out his window. "Do you think we did everything we could?"

She follows his gaze, chooses her words carefully. "I think you did."

"Wasn't enough," he says musingly like he's a little lost, like he doesn't understand where they went wrong. Winnie looks at the copies of the transcripts on the table and thinks maybe there's just no answer.

She looks at him steadily. "No, it wasn't. Doesn't mean you didn't do everything you could." It's something her sister's said to her a hundred times, first time she's ever believed it.

He looks back at her again before pulling the file towards himself and opening it. "Have a good night, Winnie." He calls out to her just as she gets to the door. "I didn't know you were a triple triple person."

She stares back at him confused and then shrugs. "Only in an extra large." She thinks of that grin on his face earlier, how he sometimes looks at Spike like a son, wonders what he sees when he looks at her.

He gazes at her for a second and then smiles suddenly. "Hmm. Okay. Bye."

She waves and turns back around, nearly crashes right into Spike who has this look that she doesn't know how to read on his face. He looks at her, eyes searching hers and she feels like it should make her uncomfortable, like she should want to look away, doesn't know what it means when she doesn't.

He smiles suddenly, bright, makes her think of sunrises before she inwardly rolls her eyes at herself. So lame. "Need a ride?"

She smiles back, shakes her head. "I'm good thanks. Have a good night."

She thinks maybe he watches her until she leaves. Doesn't know what to make of it sometimes, thinks that they're friends, but doesn't know if that night maybe a line got crossed without her knowing it.

Maybe.

* * *

On her days off, Winnie likes to sleep in, lounge around in her pajamas watching old episodes of The California Raisins, work out and study. In that order. She knows Melanie thinks she's anti-social and maybe she is but it's also been a long time since she had a big pool of friends to choose from. Melanie's bitter about that but Winnie thinks that sometimes, people don't know what to do so they push you away. It's fine, it's not like she's mad, just wishes sometimes that she'd had a better idea of when to get out before things had gone so spectacularly south.

She's contemplating running out to Shoppers for shampoo and wondering if her time would be better spent just turning the old bottle upside down and shaking it, when her phone vibrates.

_'Not the same here on your day off'_

It's kinda nice to feel like someone at work notices when she's gone (kind of nice to feel that _Spike_ notices when she's gone, she thinks and then immediately stops thinking it)so she writes back, _'haha'_. It's not exactly her best work but her phone vibrates again as soon as she's pressed send.

_'The other dispatchers don't think I'm as funny as you do'_

She flushes at that, thinks it's a little unfair to Sid and Pete and the rest of them, plus she's always been bad with compliments. She toys with saying thanks but then doesn't end up writing anything back. She feels restless all of a sudden, hopes that it's the fact that she's inside and the sun's shining through the window but thinks it more likely has something to do with Spike that she doesn't want to think about. She takes a shower, puts on makeup and holds up a sweater with the tags still on it to herself, head tilting as she looks at her reflection. It's nice to put something on and think that she looks, you know. Not bad. She doesn't really bother most of the time.

She wanders around Queen for a bit, looks at things she doesn't need to buy, And then, sitting on the patio of a coffee shop, cup in front of her, she pulls out her phone and writes back.

_'It's pity, you're not that funny'_

He writes back right away. _'Am too. Come out tonight.'_

She fidgets with her phone, thinks about what she had planned (like she was going to clean her place, so, nothing).

_'Sam, Jules and Leah. Raf's playing. It'll be fun'_

So it's not like it would just be the two of them. Not that she thought it would be, he's not like that, wouldn't do that, not after she said no. And he's probably not interested anymore, she reminds herself. It's stupid to feel nervous. Not that she feels nervous, of course not. There's nothing at all to feel nervous about.

_'Ok, see you later'_

She heads home, futzes around with her textbook and notes and resolutely does not change her hair or her clothes before she leaves. It's not far from where she lives and she thinks about walking for about a second and a half. It's really cold though, all the warmth of earlier gone the second the sun set and she lets out a little sigh of relief when she gets on the streetcar and her ears and nose can start recovering.

She spots Sam as soon as she walks in the door, he's standing up and doing something really weird with two beer bottles, Leah and Spike cracking up and Jules shaking her head at him, a jokingly long-suffering look on her face. He waves her over, climbs over Jules so that there's space on the end.

"You came!" Jules says, grinning and making a face at Sam who has decided to sit right against her, as if there's no space on his other side. He shrugs, smiling. Jules just shakes her head at him, turns back to Winnie. "We should get you a drink."

She grins back at her (Jules has always made her feel comfortable, even when she first met her, like meeting someone she already knew), unwinds her scarf from her neck and slides out of her coat, orders from a guy wearing jeans tighter than hers. Leah's looking at him like he's a chocolate milkshake – she's got a serious sweet tooth. Winnie checks him out from behind smiling, shakes her head as she sits down. Spike catches her eye and makes a face at her, glancing at Leah and then raising an eyebrow.

She lets out a choked laugh at the expression on his face.

"How was work?"

"Long," Leah says, eyes still trained on their server. "How was doing nothing all day?"

"Fantastic, you should try it sometime."

Spike snorts, dimple out in full force. "We missed you."

"We did," Leah nods, eyes still on her prize. "Not the same without you."

Winnie smiles, lets out an 'awww'.

Jules leans over, tells her she likes her sweater. Their server has been roped into conversation by Leah, Winnie's drink in his hand still half-way to the table. Sam's eyebrows are in his hairline, like he can't quite believe what he's hearing. And Spike is-

Staring at her.

He grins, doesn't look away, picks up his drink and climbs over the low table, tells Sam and Jules to shove over. She can't help but smile up at him.

"Sup?"

He snorts at her, like her effort to sound street could be anything other than hilarious. "Nothing. Just thought I was missing out on conversation over there." He shakes his head. "She could eat him for breakfast."

"I think she likes it that way."

He lets out a shout of laughter, looks at Leah who's so consumed in her task, she doesn't even hear him. He turns back to her, grinning and Winnie feels that thing that happens in her stomach whenever he looks at her. She's starting to figure out how to ignore it.

They don't speak while Raf is playing, Spike kind of nodding his head to the music. Winnie can see Sam and Jules whispering to each other, their hands clasped together. Spike leans close to her when the set is over, asks her if she can order him another drink and then disappears to the bathroom. She knows she's watching him and totally perving but she's had two drinks and has always been a really cheap date. She orders another one for Spike and, after a split-second hesitation, another one for herself.

She meets Leah's knowing eyes when she turns back to the table, Leah quirks her lips and then gets up and moves to sit next to her.

"He's cute, right?"

Comparing notes on men (especially men she works with) is _really_ not something Winnie wants to be doing right now. Or ever. She spends a solid minute clearing her throat and then shrugs noncommittally.

Leah looks like she's just struck gold. "I was talking about our server," she says mildly.

"…I knew that."

"So what's your deal with cops?"

Winnie looks at her sharply but Leah has that calm look on her face, really looks interested. "No deal. Why?"

"Don't know that I've ever seen you with one, that's all. It tends to be our entire dating pool."

She lets out a surprised laugh. "Does it?"

Leah shrugs, white teeth gleaming. "Doesn't it? It was firefighters for me first. You know how it is, they're the entire population of people you see. Then they all seemed to get married so cops it is now."

"And how's that going?"

"I think we both know the answer to that one."

They clink glasses. "Well you and the server seem to be getting on pretty well," she says mock-suggestively, snickering when Leah looks up.

"He's 19. Not that I'm complaining. You know. Stamina. But. Probably not exactly a lasting relationship there."

"That what you're after?"

"Isn't everyone?"

Winnie doesn't say anything in response.

"Want to know what I think?"

She glances at her and then looks away, sees Spike on the other side of the room making his way back to them, his face all lit up in the half-light of the lounge.

"I think no relationship is better than a bad relationship." Leah's dark eyes pierce right through her. "Doesn't mean it's a choice to be alone."

Winnie thinks about glasses being thrown, about her things being broken, about how tired it can make you when you want to help someone who doesn't want your help. Doesn't say anything.

She hears Leah let out a soft sigh before a hand squeezes her knee and Leah gets up to move.

"Taking my seat?" Spike sounds so good-natured, so easy-going that Winnie can't help but smile at the sound of his voice. She doesn't try to hide it.

"Would I dare?" Leah laughs. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if your friend Raf can introduce me properly to someone who can help me get home tonight." She wiggles her eyebrows and disappears towards the stage.

Winnie can feel Spike's eyes on her, looks up to meet them. "Having fun?"

"Yeah. Glad I came out."

"Me too."

See, ok, most of the time, she's pretty sure that things are back to the way they were, that he's over whatever it is that made him ask her out. And then sometimes, he looks at her, like he's looking at her now and she thinks maybe it's not quite that cut and dry, like maybe he couldn't just turn off whatever feeling made him do it in the first place. Even more disturbing is the fact that she likes it, a little, likes having him look at her the way he's looking at her right now. It makes her forget about silly things like rules.

Raf leans over the back of the seat, his head right between Sam and Jules.

"HEY!"

A round of hellos and he kisses her on the cheek and Winnie thinks how much it sucks that the SRU can burn out even the brightest people. She glances at the man sitting next to her and hopes that it'll never happen to him.

"How's being back on the beat?"

Raf smiles at her. "Good. I'm happy."

It's good to see him, good to have the team she spent the last year protecting back together just a little and she and Jules are talking about how hard it is to find decent boots when she feels eyes on her, looks up to see Sam, Raf and Spike all looking at her. They all look away as soon as she catches them but it makes her feel like she's got something on her face.

Raf shoots her a quick grin and she resolutely ignores the three of them, has no idea what they're doing and, having spent too much time hiding their practical jokes from the other teams, really doesn't want to know.

Midnight comes fast. Leah's already gone, Raf too, packing up behind the stage. Spike's telling her this ridiculous story about how he once got chased with a butcher knife (and he must have a really short memory because she remembers that call and no way, no how, was it any kind of knife a butcher would use) and she's laughing at his gestures. Jules leans over Spike's shoulder to talk to her, completely interrupting his story.

"I think we're going to go. Sam's hungry."

"Uh, so are you." Sam pops his head out from behind her.

Jules waves her hand dismissively. "Whatever. Are you guys coming?"

"I'm in the middle of a story."

"Please. She already knows that one. And I'm sure she remembers it wasn't a butcher's knife."

"Why don't you ruin my whole story, huh?" He gives her a wounded look.

Jules laughs. "Are you coming or what?"

"I dunno," Spike says grudgingly. "What are you going to get?"

"Poutine," Sam butts in. "Obviously."

"Is this going to be like the time you spent fifty bucks on poutine and then dropped half of it in Ed's car?" Spike makes a face.

"It wasn't fifty bucks!"

Jules glances at her. "It was $48.90," she says conspiratorially.

Winnie laughs.

"For fries and gravy?"

"And cheese curds," Sam insists.

They get up, settle their bill, Sam and Spike bickering the whole way about whether cheese curds are worth the money and if the fact that it was duck gravy in the fifty dollar poutine makes a difference. Winnie winds her scarf around her neck, holds up her jacket to slide into it when Spike takes it out of her hands and holds it out for her. She rolls her eyes at him and he rolls his right back at her so she lets him help her into it, shaking her head. He doesn't stop talking to Sam the whole time.

Jules and Sam are up ahead of them, Jules with her hand in the crook of his elbow. Spike glances at her. "They're good together."

"They are." The silence between them is comfortable and Winnie inhales deeply through her nose. "Smells cold."

He laughs, sounds surprised. "Smells that way, huh?"

"It does!"

"Not the reading on the mercury or the fact that it's way past Fall?"

"My way's more accurate," she says grinning.

She steals a few fries out of Spike's bucket, confesses that she would take a few of Sam's but is afraid to lose a finger and makes Jules laugh so hard she nearly snorts gravy out of her nose. Sam shoots her an affronted look and still won't share but Spike leaves her all the ones that aren't drowned in gravy and she can't find a way to move the grin off her face.

Spike insists on taking the bus with her when they're done, even though he doesn't need to, even though it's kinda out of his way, walks her all the way to her door. She feels awkward, like she should hug him or something (what in the fuck even, hug him? What has gotten into her?) but she just waves and then disappears inside.

She thinks about him for a long time though, as she flicks on the tv and then gets ready for bed. Even when she gets under the sheets and turns off her light, she's still thinking about him, wondering what it means that all those things she said about rules and cops and dating suddenly seem really small and unimportant.

When her alarm goes off the next morning, she feels really rested for only having gotten four and a half hours of sleep. She's in a spectacularly good mood, stops for a donut on the way in. Hesitates but then gets Spike a pumpkin spice muffin. He's a total sucker for specialty flavours, even though she's pointed out more than once that they can't be that special if they make them every year.

She runs into him outside the locker room, hands the bag over unceremoniously.

"What is it?"

She shrugs. "Something pumpkin."

And then he gives her that look, the one that usually makes her flush and look away. She doesn't look away this time. "Yum. Thanks." He shoves half of it into his mouth and she rolls her eyes in mock disgust.

"So gross. Anyhow. I'll uh. See you later."

She hears Leah behind her, asking him what he's eating, clearly hears him answer that Winnie brought him a muffin and she feels like maybe she should be embarrassed but she's not. He does a lot of nice things for her. Not that she has to justify it. She glances back anyway. Leah just raises her eyebrows and nods.

Shift is quiet, ends on time. Winnie's glad; she has an online test to get to for one of her courses, still wants to study some more before she takes it. Spike pulls up beside her just as she starts walking, gives her that grin.

"Need a ride?"

She laughs, shakes her head at him.

"Come on," he wheedles. "It'll be quicker. Then you'll have that extra fifteen minutes to read."

Well she can't fault his logic.

She gets in the car, wonders for a second how he always knows what she's got going on in her life and finds that she doesn't want to look away from him. He sings along (really badly) to the radio, trying to make his voice high and raspy like he's Robert Plant and she cracks up at how absolutely atrocious he sounds.

"Could this be the one thing you're bad at?" she asks wheezing through her laughter.

He raises an eyebrow at her. "The one thing eh? Does that mean you think I'm awesome at everything else?"

It should make her flush. It WOULD have made her flush not even a week ago but tonight, she just gazes right back at him. "At the very least, mediocre," she says, feels gratified when he bursts out laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

Things with Winnie and her group of friends are a bit messy. Mostly due to Officer Psycho, as Mel still calls him (actually, he made Detective while they were still together – guess how many times he thanked her for that one) and all the hiding she had to do to stop everyone and their grandmother from finding out about how bad her personal life was.

It's like years after the fact and everything is still weird. Maybe because she never told anyone why she stopped calling, inviting them over, started bailing on dinners and brunches and shopping. Even though she's read every single manual and textbook the SRU puts out there, she's still really embarrassed that she let it get as far as it did. Even her best friend doesn't know the whole story, the extent of how bad it got, how it ended.

She gets calls every now and then from different girls and guys in that old group and sometimes she goes but things are different. It's just not that easy to maintain relationships with people when they think you've already checked out.

That said, she always gets an invite for Dahlia's birthday (for drinks and dinners and shopping too – her best friend never gave up on her), Dahlia who she grew up with, who she used to take ballet classes with (they used to walk through the neighbourhood together after dark, could never figure out why Dahl's father used to flip out and then insist on driving Winnie home. Winnie got it. Later. After both their families moved downtown when she was eleven, after she became a dispatcher and saw the volume of calls for Driftwood).

"My birthday. Tonight. King West. You're coming."

Winnie grins into the phone, glances around to make sure no one's listening. It's not that she's not allowed to make personal calls at work, it's more that she just doesn't like doing it, doesn't like people to know the stuff she doesn't expressly tell them. Thing with Dahl is that if you don't answer the first time, she just calls repeatedly until you do. "King West where?"

"Meet me at Niagara, we'll walk there together."

"Fine fine. Dress code?"

"Hot. Duh. Like don't turn up in your uniform or nothing."

"Anything," Winnie says absent-mindedly, flipping through her Outlook calendar. "Who're you inviting?"

"Everyone. No one else got a personal phone call though, you're just not on Facebook. And you never replied to my text."

"I'm touched," she says dryly even as she grins.

"So like 8?"

"8. I'll see you later."

"Wear your dancing shoes," Dahlia sings into the phone, drawing out the word shoes like it has fifteen extra letters on the end. "Not those really masculine boots you wear to work."

Winnie rolls her eyes. "And I thought those were an option. I'll see you later."

There's a call about shots being fired a block from the Driftwood Community Centre and she just shakes her head before calling through to Sarge and the rest of Team One.

She's out of her chair right after work, Sid taking her seat and asking her if she has big plans or something, shooting up and nearly taking his eye out like that.

"Hilarious."

"You didn't answer my question," he calls after her. "Also, what are all these pink post-its for?"

"You," she calls back over her shoulder. "I know how much you like pink!"

He mimes throwing the phone at her and she just shrugs at him, grinning. She nearly runs directly into Ed, who catches her by the shoulders before she can accidentally set off his taser.

"Careful, Winnie."

"Sorry!" She steps around him.

"You coming for a drink? Sam's buying."

"No he isn't!" Sam clarifies.

"Sorry, can't tonight!" As she disappears into the locker room, she distinctly hears Sam go, "Yo, Sid, Winnie have a boyfriend or something?"

She rolls her eyes as she tugs her uniform off, putting her 'masculine' boots into her locker and yanking a shirt over her head. Dress codes with Dahlia usually involve ridiculously high heels and short skirts, lots of makeup and hair that hasn't been in a ponytail all day. Winnie's not exactly prepared.

She runs past half of Team One, Spike, Sam and Ed still standing at the desk as if they're having a meeting.

"See you tomorrow!"

"Where are you off to?" Ed asks nosily, grinning at her. "Hot date?"

"Dinner, bye!"

She waves at them, catches Spike's eye and wonders what exactly has him looking so un-Spike-like. Totally weird of her, but she wonders about it all the way home, even as she's getting dressed, tugging a dark scarlet dress over her head and hoping like hell it still zips up.

It's not like she's _invested_ in Spike being happy or anything but it's so weird to see him without a grin on his face. She half wonders if some girl has gone and broken his heart but dismisses that notion immediately – probably just a bad shift, he'd been perfectly fine that morning.

She puts on her eyeliner thinking that maybe it wasn't a bad shift, just a bad day. Who knows.

She's purposely ten minutes late and still gets there before Dahlia. She leans against the railing of the bar on the corner, shakes her head jokingly when she sees Dahl get off the next streetcar.

"You're late."

"Shut up, no I'm not. Wow, you look hot. Minus that huge coat – my mother would call it an anorak."

Winnie snorts. "Thanks. I'd tell you you look great but you'll just say you know so I won't bother. So where are we going?"

"Follow me!" Dahl says and then pauses. "Shit, hang on. Which way is west?"

"That way," Winnie points, shaking her head.

"Okay, that's good. We don't want to go that way." Dahlia links arms with her. "Ok seriously, can we possibly see each other more than once a century? This shit is not flying."

"Yeah yeah, I know. It's just, you know, work. And stuff."

Dahlia looks at her out of the corner of her eyes. "If you say so. You really do look great, Win. Glowing and whatever."

"It's my bronzer," she says dryly.

It's a longer walk than Winnie would have liked in these shoes but she forgets about it on the way there, with Dahlia clutching her arm and telling her about this poor guy she just stopped seeing ('So then I was like, of course I want someone to love me – I just don't want it to be you!'), about how her grade nine class is filled with monstrous boys who won't shut up. Eventually Dahlia leads her to the restaurant, all dark lighting and red and grins at her when Winnie asks, "Umm, if we were going to walk a mile, why did you make me get off the streetcar so early?"

"Would you stop being such a fucking old woman?" Dahlia asks sweetly, pushing her inside and giving her name to the hostess.

There's already more than ten people sitting at the table and Winnie feels a little self-conscious as all her old friends exclaim how long it's been since they've seen her.

It kind of makes her think of how easy it is to hang out with Spike and Jules or Spike and Sam, both of them playing off each other, years of friendship transformed into family. She wonders if Spike is still out of sorts, thinks about that weird expression on his face when she left work. Maybe she should like, send him a text, check on him. Or something. _Later_, she thinks. _I'll text him later._

Dahlia loves tasting cocktails but is not so fond of finishing them off. It's Winnie who ends up choking most of them down, the thought of them going to waste not sitting well. The result is that she's pretty much trashed before they even have dessert.

"Ok, we're totally going dancing."

She shoots Dahlia an incredulous look. "You want to _club_ in minus fifteen degree weather?"

"Yep! Isn't it a good thing we don't have to dance outside? And it's not minus fifteen. What do you do when it's actually Winter?"

She makes a face at her. "I don't really feel like-"

"I don't care, it's my birthday."

"You know, that only works once a year."

"Don't be ridiculous, Win. It's either my birthday or it's _going to be_ my birthday. In any case, you're coming. It's right across the street, I'm not going to make you haul ass to John and Richmond."

Winnie has a brief memory of sneaking out of the house at seventeen, skirt barely covering her ass and heels she couldn't walk in, Dahl waiting on the back of some guy's bike, dancing in dirty clubs that didn't know how to spot a fake id and getting disgusting street meat for the ride home. "Thank god for that."

There's mass confusion afterwards, all of them standing outside freezing, half not knowing if they want to go dancing and the other half not knowing where they're going. Winnie stands back, chats to this quiet girl Noelle, her friend's girlfriend who's a nurse and definitely doesn't deserve having to spend the whole night with this group.

A passing car honks it's horn violently, makes her look up. It's how she spots Spike on the other side of the street half a block down, jeans and a button-down, no coat, hands jammed in his pockets. He's standing under a heat lamp and she just stares for a second. Like objectively speaking and all, he's totally attractive. You know. If you like that type.

He happens to glance up as she's thinking about his looks, catches her eye, mouth kind of falling open before he shoots her a grin she can feel the warmth of from way across the road.

He jay walks over to her, calling her name as he steps onto the curb.

"What are the odds?" she says, grinning at him, Noelle totally forgotten.

He laughs. "What are you up to?"

She makes a face, points at Dahlia. "My friend's birthday. She wants to go dancing."

Spike raises his eyebrows, gets a look on his face that she can't decipher. "Huh." He swings his eyes back to her. "You look nice."

There is no earthly reason whatsoever why that should make her blush but it does. "Thanks." She waves her hand vaguely at him, alcohol making her tongue way looser than normal. "So do you." She clears her throat. "Um. So what are you up to?"

"Just watching the fight." At her blank look, he clarifies, "UFC."

She laughs at herself. "Oh right. How's it going?"

He shrugs. "No idea. I came with a couple friends. They're into it."

"So we both got roped into stuff?"

"Looks like it." He's still smiling at her, looking at her in a way that kind of makes her want to look away.

She doesn't, just returns his smile. "We should have run off and done something else then."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Well, hello there," Dahlia says suggestively, appearing out of thin air and grinning at Winnie even as she addresses Spike. "I'm Dahlia." She sticks her hand out. "And you are?"

Winnie kind of wants to smack her (Dahlia has a way of talking that makes you feel like you've been caught fooling around with your boyfriend by your grandma or something) but she clears her throat and says, "Dahlia this is Spike. We uh, work together. Spike, my friend Dahlia."

"Nice to meet you, friend-Dahlia," Spike says, dimple out in full force.

"Wow, a cop? Where's your gun?"

Winnie wants to cover her eyes. Dahlia makes 'gun' sound like a kind of illicit substance.

Spike laughs. "Yeah, not something I casually wear around."

"That's too bad."

He laughs again and Dahlia looks like she's a step away from like _nudging_ her or something so Winnie figures this is probably a good time to put the brakes on this entire situation. "Uh, Dahl, we should probably go."

"Maybe Spike wants to come with us."

Winnie really really _really_ hopes that Spike can't read the total suggestiveness in that sentence. "He's watching the fight with his friends."

"Too bad," Dahlia says, grinning between the two of them like she knows some private joke.

"Another time," Spike says with that easy smile.

"Nice to run into you, Spike."

"Uh yeah, you too. Win, I'll um…see you tomorrow."

She waves at him as he jogs back across the street and then feels a little like well, weird, when she sees that the 'friends' he's with involve a pretty blonde girl in tight jeans. She stands there staring for a second before Dahlia punches her in the shoulder, grinning exactly like she's been sipping from different mixed drinks all night.

"So," she says, dragging out the vowel. "_Who_ is _that_?"

"I told you. We work together."

Dahlia rolls her eyes. "No, genius, who is he _to you_. Talk about tension! Bet that warmed you up, could have melted snow! "

"There is no snow."

"Whatever. Seriously. You kept that quiet! What happened to all of that I-don't-date-cops bullshit?"

"It is SO not like that," Winnie says, laughing but kind of feeling like crying a little at the same time. "We're not…it's not like that."

"Well why the hell not?"

And it's there on the street gazing into Dahlia's fierce green eyes that Winnie cracks and tells her why she doesn't date cops. It's like possibly the worst conversation to have drunk but Winnie's sense of timing has always sucked (true story, first time she ever made a left hand turn, she nearly got t-boned). Dahlia's face gets darker and darker and when she's done (it's the barebones, cliff notes version but Winnie thinks Dahlia's always been good at subtext, an English teacher with bad grammar), Dahlia snarls, "That BASTARD. I'll kill him." She turns as if she's actually going somewhere and Winnie catches her arm, almost laughing.

"You don't have to…Dahl, it's fine, seriously. It's over. And it was a long time ago. And it wasn't his fault."

Dahlia gives a fierce look and then hugs her tightly. "I love you, Win," she says vehemently.

Winnie's feet are freezing and the rest of her is really not much better but she feels indescribably light too, a little bit better about life than she has in a while.

"Guys, seriously, what in the hell are we doing? It's cold!"

"Yeah, but really! Are we hugging? I want to hug!"

Dahlia smiles up at her like her secret is in the vault, laughs and turns around. "We are going _dancing_!" she yells out and then whoops.

Winnie closes her eyes as people in their cars stop to see what the noise is all about. She glances across the street to where Spike and his friends (including the pretty blonde) were standing before and feels weirdly disappointed when she sees the area empty. Probably she's had too much to drink.

"Helloooo, can we go?" Dahlia grasps her hand, threads their fingers together. "Come onnnn, Win!"

Winnie laughs and follows her across the street.

* * *

She feels like dying the next morning, completely hung over, her calves and feet aching, ears still ringing from dancing next to the speakers.

"Are you all right?"

She lets out a moan, head pressed against the wall next to the water fountain. "No, I'm dying," she mumbles.

Spike snickers. "I brought you coffee."

Her eyes snap open and she almost snatches the cup out of his hand. "Oh god, that's good," she mutters. "You are my hero. And a life-saver."

He rubs at the back of his neck, laughs sheepishly. "Yeah well, I figured you had a pretty uh, intense night."

"After we danced until last call, Dahlia wanted to get shwarma. In The Annex. 'Noooo Winnie, it's just not as good down here'," she imitates.

"Yikes. That is far."

"On the bus at 2:30 in the morning with everyone screaming at everyone else because we couldn't hear? Yes. It is." She quirks her lips. "So. How was your night?"

He shrugs. "Fine. Not as good as yours, I'd wager."

She takes another sip to stop herself from asking who the pretty-Nat Braddock-look-alike is. "So, who was your friend?"

His eyebrows shoot up.

Winnie tries to force herself not to blush, takes another huge sip of coffee and tries not to let it show on her face when it burns her chest all the way down.

"Just a friend," he says, smiling at her. "No one special."

Which, as far as she knows, is only code for, 'that was the most important person in my life'. She doesn't know why she feels like let down or something. Possibly, she needs more coffee. And a Costco-sized bottle of Advil.

"Uh. Can I ask you something?"

She glances up at him. "Yeah?"

He closes and opens his mouth a couple of times and then says, "Uh, do you think-"

"Hey, Win, I have some extra-strength. Want me to leave it here for you?" Pete is standing up behind the desk waving a bottle at her.

"Yes, I want you to leave it there for me! Please!" she calls back, and then turns and gives Spike an apologetic look. "Sorry, I should get signed in." She nearly takes a step back – she hadn't realized how close they were standing.

"Uh yeah. Yeah, of course. I'll see you later."

"Thanks for the coffee."

"Any time."

Three days later, Winnie feels like she's starting to recover from staying out all night and drinking her own weight in horrifically fruity cocktails.

Team One's been running drills all morning and Winnie's never been happier that every gun-wielding maniac in Toronto seems to have decided to stay at home. She's just washed down two more Advil, is walking Team Three through access to cameras at the King Edward.

A sweaty Sam leans over her desk and waits patiently for her to finish what she's doing.

She mutes her headset. "Do you need something?" Winnie's a little surprised, is all – usually, it's Spike hanging around her desk. Not that she doesn't like Sam, she likes him just fine, it's just out of the ordinary.

He clears his throat, looks furtively left and then right.

She's completely baffled, wonders if this is going to be like the time she had to explain to Commander Holleran exactly why there was a trail of cake frosting leading to the gym. "Sam?"

"Ok, look," he says, all business, "Spike will probably take my own gun and shoot me with it if he knows I said _anything_-"

"About what?" Yeah, it's definitely looking like a cake frosting issue.

"He said he ran into you. Few nights ago. At your friend's birthday."

What this has to do with cake frosting or something equally messy, Winnie can't for the life of her connect. "Okay…?"

He gives her an expectant look.

She feels pretty fucking dumb but she has no idea what he's trying to say. "Okay?"

"He was watching UFC, right? Look, Spike always watches UFC with this guy he was a rookie with. At Fifty-Two."

"Okay?" She's still confused, still doesn't know what this has to do with anything at all whatsoever. Also, she's starting to feel like a broken record.

"And his wife," Sam says significantly. "His tall, blonde wife."

Her first thought is why Spike didn't just tell her he was with his friend's wife, her second thought is that she is _relieved_ as all fuck which is disturbing, and then she looks at Sam and wonders why he's even telling her this. "That's not-it's not-you don't have to-"

"Just in case you were, you know. Getting the wrong idea."

"I wasn't." She totally was. Not that it matters. The man's allowed to date, god knows Winnie didn't think he would, you know, just hang around being like _single_ or anything just because she said no. And he's definitely not still thinking about that night when he asked her, even if _she_ is.

Sam looks like he's trying to hide a smile.

"I wasn't getting any ideas," she reiterates.

"Okay then."

"Okay."

He drums on the top of her desk and then leans back over, blue eyes wide. "Do _not_ tell him I said anything."

"Yeah, I got it. I just…I don't…why does it matter if I tell him or not?"

Sam closes his eyes briefly, a horrified look on his face. "Because I like being alive," he says emphatically.

She lets out a surprised laugh. "Okay. I don't…okay, fine. Fine, I won't say anything."

"Promise!"

"Okay, yeah, I promise!"

"Okay. Good. Well. See you later, Winnie."

"What the fuck was that?" she mutters to herself, shaking her head and adjusting her headset. Except okay, so maybe there is this tiny part of her that's very possibly slightly pleased that the blonde girl isn't going to be coming to any team events. Not that she would have minded, Winnie's sure she's very nice.

She watches the sun move across the sky through the conference room window, wonders why she'd had to promise Sam to keep something so insignificant to herself. If it were anyone else, she'd almost think his wing man was trying to clarify some details but it didn't explain why Sam had made her promise not to tell him. Her phone rings again and she rolls her eyes before she can stop herself.

Team Three is keeping her busy today, their tech asking her questions she sort of thinks he should be able to figure out himself but whatever, she's well aware that not every team gets a Spike and that well, he's taught her a few things along the way too. She walks him accessing records from the Ministry of Transportation and then hangs up yawning.

"Feeling better yet?" Speak of the devil.

She looks up from where she's pressing on her temples and makes a face. "Hey Spike. Almost. But I think I'm getting old."

He lets out a bark of laughter.

"I'm serious! I can't party the way I used to." She shakes her head mournfully. "Don't you remember when you were in school and could party five nights a week and never even get a hang over?"

"What, the good old days?" Ed interrupts, leaning on the desk with an elbow. "Yeah, Winnie. Sure. You know, I think I see a wrinkle."

She looks pointedly at his non-existent hairline and then turns back to Spike. "You know what I'm saying, right?"

He shakes his head at her, still grinning. "Not at all."

"You know what the cure is, don't you?" Ed says, eyes scanning the papers he's put down on the top of the desk. "Chinese. Or street meat."

"You're showing your age," Spike informs him. "Nowadays, it's poutine and pulled pork burritos."

"Fancy." He picks some pages out of his pile and puts them on the top. "Drinks at The Goose? Winnie, you in?"

The thought of drinking ever again is still making her nauseous. "Uh yeah, I really don't-"

Ed rolls his eyes like he knows exactly what she's thinking. "They have soda water. Or whatever non-alcoholic beverages you kids are drinking these days."

Her eyes flick to Spike who seems alarmingly interested in his thumbnail. "Well-"

"Ok, great. We'll all head over together. Twenty minutes?"

"Um-"

"See you two out front."

Spike is shaking his head slightly but there's a grin on his face that wasn't quite there before.

She's about to ask him what the hell that was all about, that Ed's not usually quite so aggressive but she hears Team Two in her headset and all she can do is smile apologetically and wheel away from him.

Jen's her relief tonight (and Winnie thinks it's kind of unfair to make the new girl work the overnight shift but Jen assures her that it actually works out better for her, is married to a guy who works the night shift at a factory which means they can actually see each other) so fifteen minutes later finds her in the locker room.

Leah's struggling with the button on her pants, finally managing to do it up and then shaking her head. "What can I blame this on?"

"The dryer?" Jules pokes her head around the side of the lockers from where she's brushing her hair in the mirror.

Winnie snickers.

"I like it. Or I bought them a size too small."

"That works," Jules calls out and then comes around again to talk to them. "So. Winnie."

"So. Jules," she mimics, leaning over to zip up her boots.

"So. Steve works with this guy who's been asking about you – and wow, okay, that's really not something you were hoping to hear."

Winnie removes the disgusted look from her face with difficulty. "Sorry. I just don't think I've ever heard of a story that ended well with that kind of beginning."

Leah clears her throat. "Yeah. I agree."

Jules shoots her a quizzical look. "You do."

"I do. Who wants to date a paramedic anyhow?"

"…You?"

"Oh, shut up."

"Ok back to my original question-"

"Winnie's not interested."

"She isn't."

"She is not."

Winnie looks back and forth between the two of them, wondering what in the hell is going on. "Uh. Jules. Tell Steve thanks but no thanks. I'm not really looking to get into anything right now."

"Exactly," Leah says, nodding like it's her Jules is talking to. "Winnie's not interested."

Jules gazes at her uncomfortably intently for a second, switches that penetrating look to Leah before a slow smile spreads across her face. "Right. Got it."

"I'll wait outside," Winnie says, wondering what the hell has gotten into the two usually-not-insane women.

Spike and Sam are the last ones to come out. Jules makes a crack about hair gel and gets a vicious glare from Spike. She ignores him, points out that it was Sam's hair she was talking about. Sam is snorting with laughter and Winnie has no idea what the hell is the matter with everyone she works with.

She starts off walking with Sam and Ed, conversation about the lock out and the fact that the Leafs wouldn't have won shit anyway, ends up five steps later walking next to Spike. He gives her that good-natured smile and she feels herself relax a little.

"So how did you and Dahlia meet?"

"We used to take ballet together. Ended up in the same elementary class."

"Ballet?"

She makes a face. "I was horrible. Apparently you have to be graceful. No one told my mother that."

"I bet you were very cute." He smiles and looks away.

It leaves her feeling like she's bright red, like he's paying her a compliment that she doesn't really know how to take. She lets out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I don't know about that." And then someone somewhere is listening to her prayers because they're at the front door and Ed's holding it open.

She slides in next to Leah, who immediately leans over and says, "I think my jeans have cut off the circulation to the top half of my body."

Winnie stares at her earnest expression and then lets out a snort of laughter.

Spike's across the table from her, watching the two of them with a look she can't read. She smiles at him and after a second, he smiles back.

Jules and Ed are arguing about tac plans over their beers, Sam wisely staying out of it and instead, talking to Sarge about the process for applying to the army, you know, if Dean's interested. Spike has moved to sit next to her (not like next-next but like closer so that she doesn't have to shout over the table to talk to him), is telling her about how he's thinking about painting a room in his townhouse and asking her what colours she thinks are best. She has absolutely fucking zero idea about paint colours, tells him that she's heard people paint stuff taupe and when she glances at Leah, the other woman has this ridiculous expression on her face, like she's watching two little puppies leap all over each other.

Three glasses of water later and she thinks it's probably time to go home, she's fighting valiantly not to yawn but she thinks Spike is on to her when he asks for her bill.

"God. It's not even 10 o'clock," she says. "I told you, I'm getting old."

She pays and heads to the bathroom before she leaves (she's been caught on a stalled streetcar – it is not so much fun when all you can think about is how bad you have to pee).

She's back at the table and buttoning up her coat, just saying good night to the other half of the table that she hardly spoke to, when she sees Leah and Spike arguing over something ferociously, Leah nodding emphatically and Spike shaking his head like she's lost her mind. Sam is grinning at her like they have some kind of inside joke (which is like, kind of weird, considering she hardly spoke to him all night) and Sarge looks like he's doing his best to keep himself interested in whatever he and Jules are talking about. Ed's sitting back, watching the rest of them with a grin on his face like this is a sitcom and he's the audience.

Winnie frowns a little, like honest to god, what the hell has gotten into these people but then shrugs and figures when you do the job they do, you're entitled to be amused by whatever you want.

"Ok, good night everyone!"

There's a chorus of byes and have a good ones and Winnie is still in the parking lot when she hears her name being called out behind her.

"Spike," she says with surprise. "Did I forget something?"

"Oh, no. No. I just…thought it was time for me to head home too. Might as well walk with you to the stop."

He makes her laugh the whole way there, they talk about how Mirvish wants to put up condos, how there's a recall on beef, and she's still smiling when she gets on the streetcar.

Her phone vibrates right as she's getting to her stop so she hops down the stair with it pressed to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Me and Leah are going skating after work on Thursday," Spike says abruptly. "Uh. You want to come?"

"Skating? Like at a rink?"

He laughs, friendly and warm. "Yeah, at a rink. It's supposed to be cold enough, no wind chill."

It's been like several years since Winnie laced up a pair of skates and she tells him as much.

"It's like riding a bike," he says. "Easy peasy. Plus you have to come because I'm pretty sure Leah's only interested in going for the hot chocolate I promised her."

She giggles (what the fuck is even up with her? She's pretty sure she hasn't giggled since like the ninth grade) and says, "Yeah, okay. Sounds fun. But if I fall and bust my lip open, I'm going to blame it on you."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'd never let you fall."

It kind of sounds like he's talking about something else and Winnie sort of doesn't really know what to say, has to force herself to listen to the end of the conversation.

"So we'll leave from work," he's saying. "Don't forget a hat. And you know, probably your skates."

"Okay."

There's a pause, Winnie letting herself into her apartment (she took the stairs so that the call wouldn't drop) and shrugging off her coat.

"Okay well. Have a good night?"

"Have a good night, Spike."

There's another pause and then he kind of lets out a huff of laughter. "Okay, bye."

Winnie lies down on the couch, her scarf still around her neck and gazes up at the ceiling. Thinks it's like so dumb to be excited to go skating, especially when the odds of her falling are so incredibly high. But when she thinks about Spike saying he would never let her fall – well, skating doesn't sound so bad.


	4. Chapter 4

Spike was right – Leah is definitely not interested so much in the skating as she is in sitting on the bench and gazing out at the rink with a smile on her face.

He was also right about the logistics of skating coming back to her, like she can remember how to keep her balance (mostly) and how to stop (sort of) but that's about all she's got. He skates beside her and she can tell he's going slowly purely for her benefit. He doesn't say anything about it, just leans close to talk to her.

A little boy comes soaring towards them, a harried father chasing after him and Spike grasps her upper arm gently, turns her a little so that she doesn't wind up being felled by a four year old.

He looks after the father and son, laughter all over his face. Winnie wonders if it's the near-collision that has her heart racing or if it's possibly something else, like the feel of his hand on her, or the smile on his face. She doesn't even know.

He's fast, not afraid of the speed that comes from flying across ice and she smiles as she leans on the top of the boards with her elbow, grins at Leah.

"Having fun?"

Leah smiles, looks more carefree than Winnie has ever seen her. "Definitely. You?"

Winnie can't stop her smile from growing. "Yeah." She glances behind her. "Who knew Team One had its very own Bobby Orr."

"You're not doing so badly."

"I haven't broken my neck yet, if that's what you mean."

"At least you came," Leah says, eyes flicking to her face and then back to the ice where two little kids are skating by hand-in-hand. "Spike would have been totally alone if you hadn't."

"You're just going to sit there and watch?"

"I came for the hot chocolate. Tastes better when you drink it outside. Plus, there's no way you're getting me on a sheet of ice with blades on my feet."

She snorts, is about to reply when a hand is suddenly next to hers and she feels Spike standing at her back. "We all good over here?"

Winnie turns to look at him, smiles, turns back to look at Leah and sees the other woman positively grinning, eyes looking past where Spike's arm is barely touching her back, hands resting on the boards on either side of her waist, to a little boy and his mom (at least she thinks that's what Leah's looking at, it could just as easily be the guy who keeps waving at her whenever he skates by).

"We were just discussing hot chocolate," Leah says, teeth bright white. "Which is a thing I think we should do sooner rather than later."

"Oh yeah? Are you cold?" Spike's cheeks are red from the chill, eyes bright.

"If I say yes, are you going to say anything at all about me getting on that ice?"

"Of course not."

"Then, yes. I am."

"You should have come skating," Spike says.

Winnie presses her lips together to hide a smile as she looks at Leah. "You can't have thought it would be that easy."

Leah rolls her eyes but she's smiling as she says, "There was a brief hope."

They get their hot chocolate, drink it on the same bench Leah's been lounging on all night, watching kids skate past with their parents, a group of guys in their 20s, a couple of teenagers who keep stopping to make out every few feet.

Winnie's sitting in the middle, Spike's arm pressed against hers and she has this brief thought like how easy it would be to just lean her head on his shoulder. Which immediately makes her sniff her drink suspiciously as if Leah might have spiked it at some point between the Timmy's and here.

"It's going to snow," Spike says suddenly. He's been looking up at the sky for the past few minutes. Now, Winnie follows his gaze, takes in the deep purple, how it's suddenly a few degrees warmer than it was at the beginning of the night, how the air sounds still. He gives her a sideways glance.

"You think? I thought we weren't supposed to get snow till next week."

"Based on the weatherman?" Leah snorts, eyes closed, head leaning back against the bench with a peaceful expression on her face. "It's literally the only job in the world where you can have zero percent accuracy and still be employed."

Winnie snickers, feels Spike laughing next to her.

"I think you two should go skate some more," she says. "And I should probably think about hauling myself home before I lose all feeling in my ass."

Spike snorts. "Or you could come with us."

Leah's eyes open as she straightens up and pops her spine. "Not happening, Scarlatti."

He shakes his head at her like she's a lost cause and then looks at Winnie. "Well? What do you say?"

They toss their cups into the garbage and she follows him back onto the ice, tugging her mittens back into place. She can see Leah still sitting on the bench, smiling at nothing, cup still in her hand.

They skate around four times, talking about nothing in particular as they do, before he leaves her standing near Leah once more and takes off to lap around twice more, fast like he's racing someone.

Leah looks particularly pleased with herself and Winnie can't help but ask her what's gotten her into such a good mood. Leah looks her right in the eye and says, "You know when good things happen to good people? It just makes me smile."

Looking at Spike kneeling down to help up a little girl who can't be more than three years old, smiling as he sets her on her feet again and she tugs on his scarf before skating away, Winnie thinks that yes, that is a good thing.

Leah gets up to leave not too long after that, bumping fists with Spike and grinning widely at Winnie before she does.

"What do you say? Another time around?"

"Yeah, sure."

Naturally, this would be the time she nearly trips (it's like, really, she should have known. She learned how to ski when she was thirteen, fell and broke her leg on the last run of the day), is totally about to greet the ice with her face when strong arms grasp her around the waist. Spike rights her, pulling her up against him. She grasps at his biceps without even thinking about it.

"You ok?" He's laughing a little, relief on his face but he must see something in hers because slowly, the smile disappears and he just stares down at her, lips slightly parted.

Her heart is stuttering, skipping beats and then racing. He's never stood this close to her before (and he has stood _pre_-tty close, is what she's suddenly thinking, but this is _close_, like she can see the reflection of the lights in his eyes kind of close), never gripped her waist like this. She thinks that if she just tilts her head up, just looks up a little, he could kiss her. She sees him swallow and for a brief, hysterical moment wonders what it would be like, him lying against her on her couch, both of them watching the rain fall outside, tv on low. Wonders what it would be like for them to go skating together, just the two of them, with snow falling, if he would brush it out of her hair, what he would look like standing next to her smiling, snowflakes on his lashes.

He's still staring at her, this look like possibly he likes what he sees when he gazes at her face and the realization that she _wants_ him to kiss her makes her feel like she just stood up too fast, world spinning just a little before righting itself.

"Careful," he says quietly and for a second, she thinks he might be talking to himself.

"Told you I was probably going to bite it," she says, forces a laugh to cover the weird tremble in her voice.

"Told you I wouldn't let you fall," he says. Doesn't try to cover the thickness in his.

She swallows. "Yeah. Uh, you did say that."

He smiles slowly, and she finds herself watching in fascination, the way it takes over his face, all the way from his eyes down to his dimple. "Are you cold?" he asks, sudden concern making him lean even closer to her.

She has zero idea if she's cold or not, can only feel the warmth in her stomach. Gloved hands settle gently over her ears.

"You should have brought a hat," he says.

She makes a face at him and he laughs. "You're not wearing a hat," she points out.

"I'm sure my ears are not half as delicate as yours are."

She's clearly lost her mind because the very idea that a) he's noticed her _ears_ and b) that he finds them, like, delicate – she's about a second away from just asking him to kiss her, all her rules be damned, no thought of where it will leave things between them.

She catches herself before she opens her mouth and embarrasses them both though. Slowly, she takes a step back and he lets her, gives her this look like understanding or something, she doesn't even know. They change into their shoes and he tells her that he should probably drive her home so that she doesn't lose her ears to frostbite and she agrees because she wants to spend just a few more minutes with him (Jesus, what in the _hell_ is wrong with her? Is this like a symptom of not getting any? Possibly it is. It's been a while).

He aims the vents at her, jacks the heat up; he's always so thoughtful. Winnie wonders when she started noticing that. She also wonders when they started having these kinds of silences. It's warm and it's comfortable having him next to her; she can feel herself starting to doze, her head leaning against the window.

The radio's on, super low, some rock band crooning about paying the price, not counting the cost, and it's all combining to make her feel like she's half way between sleep and awake.

A hand shakes her arm and she has to blink to remember where she is and who she's with. "Sorry – we're uh…we're here."

She looks out the window blankly for a second. "Oh! Right." She laughs at herself, feels like a moron. "Thanks for inviting me. I had a really great time."

He smiles at her, kind of like he doesn't think she's a moron at all. "I'm glad you came."

She pauses, one hand on the door handle, mouth feeling like it's going to open no matter what her brain tells her, wonders if it's the warmth in the car or the fact that she really did have a great time tonight. "Um. So. My friend Dahlia. Who you met. Her sister works at an art gallery. They're having a show in a couple of days. Um. You wanna go?"

He looks shocked for a second and it makes her squirm. "I-yeah. Yeah, of course I do."

"Um. Okay." Half of her is wondering just what the hell she's doing but the other half is thinking that an otherwise fairly brutal evening will now be far less so and may even be fun. Fun's never been their problem and friends have fun together. This is in no way weird. "So. I'll message you."

"Okay then."

She pictures herself leaning over, kissing him and then opens the door so fast she nearly falls out. Seriously, what in the hell did Leah put in that hot chocolate? "Okay well. Bye."

He does what he usually does, waits for her to get inside. She waves to him from inside the glass, pulls out her phone as it starts to ring.

"Winnie, I swear to God, if you ditch me at this show, I will hunt you down."

Winnie rolls her eyes. "Hi Dahlia. I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Dahlia ignores her completely. "I'm not kidding. My sister's already talking about all the guys she wants to set me up with. Make it stop."

"I'm not going to ditch you, I already said I was coming."

"Thankfully."

Winnie clears her throat. "Also, I'm bringing someone with me."

"Who? Who do you even know to bring? No offence," she snickers and then gasps. "Oh my god, are we talking about Spike? I _knew _it. I _knew_ you liked him."

She wonders if it's worth protesting. "We're _friends_."

"I've never known someone who could be in denial the way you are. This isn't like convincing yourself you like kale so you'll eat more of it."

"It'll just complicate things."

She hears Dahlia snort. "So what happened?"

"I asked him to come. He said yes."

"No, no, I got that part. I just...how exactly did this come up in conversation?"

"He was giving me a ride home."

"At eleven-fifteen at night?"

"We went skating."

Dahlia lets out a cackle, tries to turn it into a cough. "Oh. I see."

"There's nothing to see! If anything, I'm proving that we're still friends. Friends go skating together."

"Do they. Well that's good to know, next time I think about asking you to come out for a drink, we'll just go skating instead." She lets out a snort of laughter. "I think it's more likely that neither one of you wants this as friends-only but hey, that's just my opinion."

"He does not! It's been weeks. He asked me out one time. _One_. It's done."

"Oh yeah? Okay. And what about for you? Wait wait. Let me guess. You don't date cops."

"I don't."

"I don't get why you're going to let one idiot ruin the entire force. Plus I googled SRU, found your M. Scarlatti, those uniforms are just...wow. They're wow. Honestly, I don't know how you get anything done around there, all those men dressed up like that."

"You _googled_-nevermind, I don't want to know."

"You know I'm right."

"Dahl-"

"No, I'm not sliding on this one. You wanna know what I'd do if it had been me? I'd find a great guy, who also happened to be a cop and then I'd flaunt it in my ex's face."

Winnie opens and closes her mouth for a second before saying, "I don't even know where he is now. Plus, why would I care? It is very thankfully over. I hope he's happy."

"You are such a disgustingly decent person."

"Stop it."

"So what? You're just going to live your life alone? Just keep on going the way you have been?"

"What's wrong with how I've been going? I'm happier than I ever was with Rob. I can live the way I want to, go out whenever I want, never have to report what I'm doing or where I am. There're no fights, less stress, less shit broken, no one yells at me for, I don't know, breathing too loud...Dahl, I'm happy."

"And you're never going to date anyone seriously ever again?"

Winnie rolls her eyes, thinks about the very few casual dates she's been on since (never more than a couple with the same person) and shrugs even though no one can see her. "What's wrong with that? I'm a modern, independent woman - who needs a guy?"

"Yes yes, you have hands and or a vibrator, that's great. I'm talking about the other stuff. Having someone to cuddle when it's cold. Having someone hold your hand, someone to go for walks with, someone to kiss you and make you totally believe in the goodness of humanity-"

Winnie bursts out laughing. "Are you serious right now? You, who hates people, you're telling me that I need a guy to _cuddle_? Have you lost your mind?"

Dahlia won't be deterred. "What about someone to make you laugh when you're not expecting it? Someone to bring you up when you're sad? Someone to yell at when you're both pissed off? What, you're going to die alone?"

"And what, you think Spike, _Spike_ who I _work_ with, is going to be that person?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. How are you ever going to find out?"

Winnie thinks about spending the rest of her life _alone_ and thinks that it doesn't really sound that terrible.

But then she thinks about spending the rest of her life _without him in it_ and it feels like she's suffocating in her own air.

"Did I just win this argument?"

"Dahlia, shut up," she mutters, still thinking about his hands covering her ears, how he makes her laugh, how he's not above making himself look like an idiot so long as the people he's with are amused. She feels a bit sick. "I have to go."

"Fine. Don't you dare chicken out of bringing him though."

"I'm...I'm not going to chicken out," she says, like that wasn't exactly what she was going to do.

They hang up and Winnie feels restless in a way she can't explain, like she's looking at her life that was awesome five minutes ago and now it's like something's missing, like maybe it could be better. She walks around her apartment until someone bangs on the ceiling of the floor below. She winces, sits down but can't stay still. She fiddles with her phone, turns it around and upside down, unlocks it and locks it. Dials.

"Hello?" Spike sounds surprised.

"Hi," she says brightly. "It's Winnie."

"I know. I mean…hi! What's up?"

It's on the tip of her tongue, all she has to do is say it, say she's changed her mind. She glances out the window, sees the lightest snow ever falling in the light from the streetlamp.

She hears herself giving him the address and the time and then telling him to scratch that, they can just leave from work together, no problem.

"Okay, sounds like a plan."

She wants to tell him that they should bring Leah, Sam, Jules, hell, even Sarge and his son but she feels fiercely protective, wonders what the hell has gotten into her, she's not usually like this.

"Winnie?"

"What?"

"You okay?"

"Is it weird if we don't ask anyone else from work?" she blurts out and then immediately winces, burying her face in a couch cushion. Like, what in the hell is he even going to do with that? God, it's like she's in high school, doesn't want to invite any of the other kids at the lunch table.

He's quiet and for a second, she has this brief hope that he dropped the phone right as she said it. Or that there was static. "No. It's not weird," he says eventually. "They've got their own stuff going on."

"Um, okay." She extracts her face from the cushion. "And you were right. About the snow."

There's a pause. She can imagine him looking out his window, thinks about what it means that they're in two different places looking at the same thing. "So I was."

"Yeah." She leans back, watches the snow fall. "Maybe you can be a meteorologist. You know. If the whole cop thing doesn't work out."

He laughs and it makes her smile. "So, what are you doing?"

"Nothing really. Walking around my apartment. I think the person below me is getting annoyed though. They keep banging on my floor."

He snorts. "Let them, who cares."

She pauses at that, smiles right where she's sitting, still for the first time since she got inside. "What are you doing?"

"Reading."

"About?"

"Is it beyond lame if it's work-related?"

She laughs. "No. Not at all. What for work?"

"Pros and cons of using lasers instead of centrifuges."

She snorts. "Nevermind. I take it back."

He laughs, warm and soft in her ear. She figures the shiver that goes through her is because of the cold, reaches for the blanket. "Yeah well. Perk of the job, I guess."

Her eyes fall on her textbook, still open to the chapter she's supposed to be reading right now. "I guess I should be doing some reading myself."

She can hear him smiling as he says, "I'm in good company at least."

She smiles too. "Okay. Well. I'll see you at work."

"Have a good night, Winnie."

She pauses for a second, wants to say something else but doesn't have any idea what. "Yeah. You too. Bye."

* * *

Winnie's been on edge all day, her nerves not helped along by Dahlia's suggestive texts from what she should wear to what she should say to Spike on the way there. She thinks Sarge knows something's up with her, keeps being super polite anytime he calls her and honest to god, this is ridiculous. It's not like she's going to freak out just because she's hanging out with a friend.

Spike waits outside the main doors, catching her right as she comes out, phone in hand.

"Hey!"

She swallows, wonders what the hell it is with her that she's noticing his coat, of all things and forces a smile. "Hey. Ready to go?"

He grins, completely undeterred by how brusque she thinks she sounds. "Absolutely. Do you wanna drive? Or TTC?"

"You ok leaving your car here?"

"Yeah, no problem. I should probably be driving less anyhow."

He asks her stuff on the way to the bus stop, stuff she can't even remember, just little things and like, okay, she's like _nervous_, which is stupid but she's also kind of excited. Which is even more stupid.

They exchange a look on the bus, a bunch of school kids being disruptive and annoying, throwing things and he grins at her. "Was that you as a kid?"

She snorts. "Yeah right. My mother would have killed me."

He laughs. "Yeah, mine too."

It's so not normal to be this interested in your coworker's childhood, Winnie thinks, halfway through a story Spike's telling about how he once got in a fight with the school bully, got his ass kicked. He'd gone home, his father had taken one look at him and then taught him how to throw a proper punch. He's just such a good story-teller, face animated, hands moving.

She needs to get a grip, is what she needs.

She leads him to the gallery, both of them avoiding bits of slush and she thinks despite the cold and the slippery slush they're wading through, it's kind of a nice night.

"Nice space," he says admiringly, once they're inside.

"Hey guys!" Dahlia comes towards them, a glass of something green in her left hand. She leans closer, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, thank god you're here, I'm so fucking bored."

Winnie glances around, sees no one she knows. "Why didn't you invite anyone else?"

Dahlia rolls her eyes. "Ew, like who? People are so annoying." She waves behind her. "Take all these people, for example. None of them want to talk to me, they just want to talk about how this piece or that piece is art elevated. So pretentious."

Spike laughs. "Elevated?"

"True story," Dahlia says with a sad sigh. "Those two guys in the suits."

Winnie snickers. "Should we get a drink?" she asks.

He grins at her. "Lead the way."

She's having fun, Winnie admits to herself an hour and a half later. Not that she thought she wouldn't. It's just Spike, she guesses, making everything a hundred times more entertaining. Plus it gives her someone to talk to who isn't Dahlia (who keeps getting called away to meet someone her sister wants to introduce her to – mostly artist friends of hers that she's clearly trying to set Dahlia up with. Dahlia has this look on her face like she's being led to the gallows).

Spike doesn't leave her side, leans over to talk to her like she's the only person he can see, looks at her like she's important, makes her laugh when she can't see what the artist was trying to convey, falls quiet when she sees a couple of paintings that make her think of sunrises, of summer and sunscreen.

She leans her shoulder against a pillar.

"Tired?" Spike asks softly, leaning way into her space.

"Aren't you?"

He grins. "It's something I've learned to get over."

She laughs. "I'm really glad you came with me," she says impulsively.

He gives her that look, the one she's suddenly realized he's been giving her for weeks now, just shrugs. "Me too. Glad you asked."

She wants to tell him that right now, his hand at the small of her back is making her shiver, that she likes hearing his voice, likes the fact that he's here with her at all but she can't find the right words, can't find the right tone. Everything comes off sounding so serious in her head. She wants to ask him to come home with her, bring some of that laughter into her apartment, some of him.

She doesn't end up saying anything at all.

They stop for tea on the walk back, he walks close to her, glances at her sideways when he says something that makes her laugh. And even though they're literally passing his house, he insists on walking her all the way home, just nods at her when she points out that he's going to have to walk all the way back, like it's no big deal.

She doesn't know what to make of that but when she gets into bed, she can't quite find a way to wipe the smile off her face.


	5. Chapter 5

It's a bad shift.

Winnie's exhausted, all of the tiredness in her head and her eyes, that little girl's screams still all she can hear. She doesn't even want to see what the rest of the team will look like when they come in from the garage. She hates the sight of everything right now, just wants to go home and cry and think about things that aren't dead little girls.

Sid relieves her a little early and she doesn't hang around, doesn't think she can even stand to have anyone talk to her right now.

She starts tearing up the second she steps outside, swipes at her eyes angrily and thinks if she'd just been faster, _just a little bit faster_, getting through all those records, that she'd have found the name sooner and the team could have been there before it was too late. They could have gotten there when there was still enough time and two people wouldn't be planning a funeral for their daughter instead of a birthday party.

She walks rather than get on the streetcar, even though it's freezing. _What does she even have to go home to_, is her bitter thought. _What's the rush?_

She had stuff once. A home and a two-person family and expectations. Of course, all those things kind of turned out to be terrible and not at all what she wanted but sometimes, going home to nothing-

The first thing she does when she gets inside is turn the shower on. She stays in it until the water runs cold and she's shivering, until her eyes sting from the water and her tears and she can't tell the difference between them.

She walks around her tiny apartment, towel wrapped around her, shuffles her feet a little, fills a glass of water, wonders what the hell she's supposed to do with herself, wonders how her life can keep going when a child's has ended. It doesn't make any sense.

The buzzer startles her, makes her jump violently and slosh water all over the floor. She lets out a sigh, thinks that if it were another night, maybe she'd run down there and chase those bratty neighbourhood kids off with a broom. Or invite them in and take an interest, she doesn't know. Tonight, she just stares at the intercom blankly and then groans out loud before she presses the button.

She lets out a heavy breath before she answers. "Yeah?"

"Winnie? It's uh…it's me. Uh, Spike."

Her mouth drops open and she looks around at the mess (it's the problem with small spaces, one little thing out of place and it looks like a bomb went off, clean laundry all over the coffee table, books all over her kitchen counter, dishes in the sink that she hasn't gotten to yet).

"Um…hi," she says stupidly. "Hi. Uh. I just…um. Give me a second. I'll come down."

She grabs the first things she lays her hands on, this truly horrendous pair of sweats that she's had since grade seven, when having stupid words written on your ass was the height of cool. Her shirt's a thermal, thin and threadbare and she's pretty sure that if she takes off her jacket, he'll be able to see her skin and definitely her violently purple bra. _Keeping it classy, ladies and gents, keeping it classy_.

It's when she's waiting for the elevator, keys in her left hand, that it occurs to her that it's freezing outside and she just left him waiting at the door. She sighs, rubs a hand over her face. Wishes she'd had some warning and could have put on some mascara, at the very least. Just to look human.

He's leaning with his back against the outside wall, looking up and she takes a deep breath before she pushes the front door open.

"Uh. Hi."

He turns to look at her and she thinks that if she didn't know him, she'd think nothing ever bothered him, he's smiling at her, face relaxed but she sees his eyes and wonders why days like today have to happen to people like him, people who don't deserve anything bad, ever. "Hey Winnie."

She wants to ask him what he's doing here, what he wants, why he came. She doesn't know how to ask him any of those things.

He's studying her face and she thinks maybe she sees concern and worry, some other things that she's too tired, too shattered, to see for sure. "Wanna go for a walk?"

Before he got there, she thought that she wanted to lie in bed and maybe cry herself to sleep but now that he's standing in front of her and there's the possibility of not having to hear that little girl screaming for even a few minutes, she wants to do whatever it is that will keep him in her head instead. "Yeah."

They stay on King, just walking slowly, neither one saying anything and when he sinks onto a bench twenty minutes later, she takes a seat beside him.

The silence is comfortable, the same way it's been between them lately. It's soothing, makes her feel like she can breathe for the first time.

"I uh…I know you're upset. About earlier."

She doesn't say anything, just keeps looking away from him.

"It wasn't your fault."

She finds tears in her eyes at that, like he sounds so sincere and gentle and she hates it. She almost wants him to hold her responsible, wants him to ask her why she wasn't quicker, wasn't better.

"So. I hope you're not sitting there blaming yourself. Cause none of us are blaming you."

"That little girl," she says quietly, feeling a lump in her throat the size of a golf ball. "She…all I can hear is her screaming. She was so scared." God. _God_. She's going to cry. She coughs, looks away, thinks she can surreptitiously rub her eye before the tear falls.

Except that Spike catches her wrist where it's covered by her coat and tugs gently so that she's facing him. "We do the best that we can. But we're not perfect. All we can do is try to be better next time."

Winnie can cry silently like no one else's business, tears sliding down her cheeks, her chest hurting from holding in her sobs (she's had a lot of practice, all that time spent trying to be brave).

He raises his other hand, watches her face carefully as he wipes at her tears with his thumb.

Her breath catches in her throat.

Yes, they've like arm wrestled and she's sat next to him and he put his gloved hands over her ears for a second and it's not like she's been spending all this time wondering what his touch feels like or anything but she's suddenly not sure how she's ever supposed to be able to forget how his fingers feel on her skin.

She lets out a sob then, a real one, leans forward and lets him hold her. She thinks maybe he kisses her temple but she's not sure. He's warm and strokes her hair and lets her cry until she's finished and even then, he sits in silence, his hand on hers, both of them watching how still the night is.

Winnie clears her throat, thinks about all the ways this should probably be awkward and then squeezes at the hand laced with hers.

Spike glances at her. "Should we head back?"

There's this huge part of her that wants to say, 'no, let's just stay out here until the sun rises, so I'll know that it will' but she also thinks that forcing him to stay out in the cold so that she can have a mental breakdown is probably not what he'd envisioned when he'd pressed the buzzer of her building. "Yeah. Um. Thanks. And sorry. For," she waves her hand vaguely, "all of that."

He gives her that easy smile, shrugs. "Don't worry about it. We all need someone sometimes."

She wonders who he has now that his mother's gone, hopes that he talks to Sarge or Jules in a way she doesn't know how to, hopes that that childhood friend he always talks about is the kind of listener who doesn't judge.

"You uh. Forgot your phone. At work." At her blank look, he reaches into his pocket and hands it to her. "Thought you might need it. Getting calls from all those guys." His tone is teasing, gentle, like he really thinks she gets a lot of them.

The idea is so ludicrous that she lets out a sharp burst of laughter and then claps her hand over her mouth as the sound pierces the night. "Sorry. Thanks." She takes it, looks at him. "Well I bet you weren't expecting all of this when you came over."

"I have no expectations when it comes to you." His tone is completely mild, like he's commenting on the weather.

She studies him, looking for any flash of insincerity or like he's joking but he just gazes back at her steadily. She thinks about that, thinks how nice it is for someone to have no expectations and to still want to be around her anyhow. She feels this overwhelming urge to tell him that it's reciprocated, that she cares very much about him and his well-being, that she might have said no but really, she wanted to say yes. Not that she's thinking about him _like that_ or anything. You know. She's not. They're friends. Friends care about each other.

He walks her back and they stand awkwardly looking at each other outside her front door. She wonders if she's supposed to invite him in but then thinks about the disaster that her place is in and the fact that she's out of milk, sugar and down to the last grinds of coffee and regretfully thinks that it's not really a great idea. "I-uh. Thanks."

He just shrugs and impulsively, she leans over, hugs him hard and quick and then steps back. He smells good, that scent that always makes her think of him. Not that she like, _thinks_ about him anymore than she thinks about anyone else. Just the usual amount.

He looks a little floored.

She knows they don't touch that often but the guy just literally wiped tears from her eyes, a hug at this point isn't nearly as intimate. She wants to ask him what he's doing tomorrow, Team One off and her on the same rotation, thinks it's incredibly invasive to ask at all. "See you after our 'weekend'?"

"Bright and early on Wednesday."

Winnie doesn't turn the lights on in her apartment, brushes her teeth and gets into bed by the light from the streetlamps outside. She lies on her back, stares at the ceiling and thinks about all those things she's scared to want, thinks about how easy it is to lose everything even when you have nothing. Then she thinks about Spike, his thumbs on her cheekbones, his hand on hers, how he makes her smile and how stupid it is to feel regret for something you didn't get to do.

* * *

Her sister calls early the next morning, wakes her up at 7.

"Mel. There's this little thing called a time zone."

"Aw shit. I always forget that. Whatever. How's it going? Sorry I missed your call couple days ago."

"Well. It's my day off and I'm still in bed," Winnie says, yawns. "Bad shift yesterday. How are you?"

By this point, Mel knows what a bad shift usually means and she's uncharacteristically hesitant when she asks, "You uh…want me to call back?"

"Don't be stupid. I'm fine."

"You sure? You wanna…talk about it?"

"Not really. Just one of those days."

"Did you call Mom?"

Winnie rolls her eyes, wonders just who the older sibling is here. "It was late when I got home."

"You're supposed to talk about these things, Win."

"And I did. A bit. Just to someone at work, it's fine."

"_Really_." Mel suddenly sounds really interested, much more like herself. "Who was it?"

Winnie makes a face, thinks of how she just ran right into that one. "Spike. And it's not like how you're thinking it is."

"No? Really. Cause, you know, I got a Facebook message from Dahlia. She mentioned she met him."

Fucking Dahlia. "We ran into him on the street!"

"Hmm. Then she said you went to the gallery. And brought him along. Which – doesn't really seem like the kind of thing he does."

Winnie squirms. "Okay, all of that's true. But it's not like we're…whatever you're thinking we are."

"I'm not thinking anything," Mel says innocently. "It's just – interesting."

"Uh huh. So can we change the subject?"

"Sure we can."

"Right. So. How are you?"

"Just wanted to tell you I'm coming home for a few days in February."

"The coldest, grossest month ever? What's the occasion? Are you engaged?"

"Funny. And I dunno. Flights were cheap, I can get the time off, I wanna see you and Mom, ok really, do I need a reason?"

Winnie laughs. "Of course not. I can't wait."

"Yeah, so I'm thinking, whatever days you have off we can go up to St Cats, see Mom and do the family thing. Then head back to your place. I'm staying with you, by the way. It's just me and just fyi, I'm going to share your bed. Your couch gave me some kind of life-long back problem the last time I slept on it."

"Uh huh, tell me again why I have to let you stay with me?"

"Because I'm your baby sister and this is how it goes."

Winnie sits up in bed, fighting the smile on her face. "Yeah yeah. All of that."

"Ugh. I'm really sorry to cut this short but apparently there's some kind of crisis under the bathroom sink – honest to god, who's the guy in this situation? Like what am I supposed to do? You know, if I had a choice, I'd live with a boyfriend who knew his way around power tools."

"Too bad you don't have a choice then."

"I know. Totally inconvenient that I love the guy. Oh well. In another life. Love you!"

"Love you."

They hang up and Winnie thinks that now might be a good time to get out of bed and make herself a useful member of society. Before she can talk herself out of it, she sends a message to Spike.

_'Thanks for last night.'_

Then she resolutely doesn't check her phone again for the rest of the day. Like how embarrassing is it that she lost any kind of cool she had, cried all over him like that? Not a thing she does, Winnie's not a public crier, only ever a couple times in front of her sister, she's just not built that way.

God knows she never cried in front of Rob, would wait till he passed out to clean up then, you know, cry in the shower. So what exactly does it say about her that she just loses it on her _male coworker _like that? Probably nothing good.

She's back at her desk after her day off, hair tied back neatly and concealer on the circles under her eyes. Spike waves when he comes in, stops by her desk before he heads to the gym, same as he does every morning.

She smiles politely at him, wonders if he's about to bring up her inability to control herself but he just makes a stupid joke about eggplant ("Hey Winnie, what's a chicken's favourite kind of vegetable? An egg-plant!") and he just smiles when she lets out a snort of laughter and shakes her head at him. He backs away from her desk looking pleased and just like that, everything's back to normal.

Sometimes they get lucky after a bad shift and the next one is quiet as all hell. This is one of those shifts.

It's actually pretty painful too, like there are only so many times you can check the hourly weather after you've literally filed everything on your desk twice and Winnie thinks it just gives her too much time to think.

She idly checks movie times, thinks maybe this is the kind of evening to see a bad movie that no one else she knows will want to see. Plus, movie theatre popcorn is not a thing she ever turns down.

Spike's grin stops her before she leaves and she's kind of floored for a second, like wow, okay, he has a seriously good smile. Not a thing that should make her stop dead.

"Where are you heading in such a rush?"

"I'm trying to make the 740 time of that racing movie," she says, rolling her eyes at herself.

He looks at her in disbelief for a second before he snickers. "Oh yeah? You and every fourteen year old boy in the city."

"Don't judge. No one else wants to see it and this feels like the kind of night to get a large tub of popcorn and sit in a chair a million people have sat in before." She takes in the look on his face and before she can stop herself, she says, "What, you want to come?"

"Yeah?" He raises his eyebrows.

Well she's committed now. Not that it feels like a bad thing. "Yeah, of course. But decide fast because if I miss the previews, I'm going to have to see it again, which - total waste of money."

"It's probably going to be a waste of money even if you don't see it again," he says, grins when she childishly sticks her tongue out at him.

He makes fun of the fact that she power walks the whole way there, sprints from the concession stand and informs him that they only have six minutes left and could he possibly walk any slower?

She pauses at the foot of the stairs and looks up at him. "I don't like to sit in the front row. Or the back row. Or next to people if it's empty."

He snorts, gives her a look she can't read the meaning of but that she figures probably means he thinks she's insane. "Why don't you pick where we sit then?"

She slides into her chair and then grins over at him. "Bet you're wishing you hadn't said yes."

He shakes his head at her smiling.

She selects a piece of popcorn carefully and then sighs. "Would you like some?"

"Wow, you're going to share?"

"Yeah well. Don't get used to it."

He takes a huge handful, just grins brightly at her when she makes a face at him.

The movie is worse than she thought it would be, definitely doesn't warrant how fast she made him rush and he keeps turning to look at her incredulously, bad stunts and even worse lines. It makes her laugh, his facial expressions, the light from the screen reflected off his face.

When the lights come back up, he just turns to her, slack-jawed.

She presses her lips together hard. "That wasn't bad, was it?" she says brightly.

He shakes his head and says, "What _was_ that?"

"You knew what you were getting yourself into," she says weakly before breaking into laughter.

"Seriously, next time, I'm picking."

And she doesn't say anything in response because what in the hell even, next time? And even more disturbing is the fact that it's not really that disturbing. She doesn't even know.

"We should ask for our money back," he grumbles as they get to their feet, his hand reaching out to help her wriggle her other arm into her coat. "I think my IQ just dropped a hundred points."

She laughs, gets her coat buttoned. "Yeah well, you've got more IQ points than the average person, I'm sure it won't even make a difference." He gives her another one of those looks she can't figure out, stands right there so that she has to back up a little or risk crashing into him. "What?"

"You hungry?"

She opens her mouth to say no, of course not, she just ate her own weight in popcorn but her stomach growls and she raises an eyebrow and snickers. "Possibly. Why?"

"I feel like this would be a really good time to get sushi."

She stares at him. "You want to get sushi."

"Yep. You coming?"

And because she's somehow developed this _disease_ where she can't say no to him, she just nods and follows him down the stairs, even as he says he's picking the place and shoots a meaningful look at the screen.

Thirty-five minutes later, they're sitting at this honest to god hole in the wall, no sign on the outside and Spike on a first name basis with the waitress. It makes her feel like he's got this whole secret life that she knows nothing at all about. And duh, they work together and they're friends but obviously there are things about him that she doesn't know. She suddenly finds herself wondering where he goes for his vacations, how he fills his days off.

He catches Winnie's look and says, "I uh. I used to come here with Lew."

Lew is decidedly not a topic they cover on those mornings when he hangs around her desk. She stares at him, doesn't know what to say, thinks it's better if she doesn't try. She lost a brother too is the thing, knows what it's like when people start offering their advice.

He gives her a smile but it's tinged with sadness, makes him look like someone else entirely.

Winnie looks at him steadily and then says, "Remember the time he glued Sam's boots to the floor?"

He laughs, looks surprised that he's laughing. "You remember that?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Please. Who do you think had to explain to Holleran why the floor was all ripped up?"

He lets loose an absolute guffaw, eyes lit up and dimple on display. "Yeah? What'd you say?"

"I told him the truth," she says primly, tossing her hair out of her eyes. "Training exercise."

He laughs again, looks like the person she started the evening off with. "Remember the time he rigged Jules's locker to spit purple silly string when she opened it?"

"And she kept saying she'd swallowed some?" Winnie snickers, looks at him contemplatively. "You know, she thought that was you."

"Uh no. No. All that was Lew. He was always better at coming up with that kind of stuff."

"Always the quiet ones."

He laughs again but it's quieter, sadder. "Isn't that the truth." He sighs.

She sighs too, thinks of Lew, of Spike&Lew, the double act that made her laugh every single shift, the half that's left that still does. "It's weird, like we know eventually it's going to happen but we're never prepared when it does."

He's staring at her and for the first time ever, she feels comfortable staring right back. "Like a lot of things."

"Guess so. What's that about eh? Like nothing makes sense." She's trying to lighten the mood, wishes he'd meet her half way here.

He's still staring and she still doesn't want to stop looking at him. "Maybe so we can recognize the things that do."

She props her chin up on her hand. "Is this the part where we have to talk about how life is unpredictable? Or how much it can suck?"

He smiles at her, sudden, and she sits back a little at the force of it, thought she had figured out how to ignore his presence by now, figured it was something like a weird smell, keep breathing through your nose and eventually, it just smells normal and you don't even notice it anymore. It uh – it turns out it's not actually like that at all. "Doesn't always suck."

"That's because you're an eternal optimist," she says, glad when he laughs, looks at him carefully before she says, "Lew used to tell me to put my best foot forward, which. You know. I always thought was really annoying."

Spike snorts. "He loved his clichés."

"Yeah."

They sit there in quiet and Winnie looks down, thinks that the silence is so comfortable, it's almost like she's there alone. Only then, she looks up and Spike is right there with her.

It's what she thinks about all through dinner, when they get on different streetcars, on the ride home. She also thinks about how incredibly easy it is to be around him.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Winnie puts on liner and mascara, spares a brief moment for the fact that if this is what it takes to look like a functioning member of society, what exactly does she look like the rest of the time, and sets an enormous coffee with lots of cream in it on her desk. She sits up straight in her chair, waves at Spike when he comes in.

He stops by her desk on his way to the gym, all 'good morning, you look nice today' and she can't help but smile up at him, opening her mouth before it can catch up with her brain. "Who do you call? After bad shifts?" Cause, here's the thing, yeah, he's called her up before and gone ahead and announced sad things ('My dad's dying' comes to mind) but what she's offering now? It's different.

Spike's face gets a little closed and she thinks maybe she should have said hi first. "Someone on the team?" he says cautiously. "Sometimes."

She looks up at him bravely. "Well, you know. You can call me too." Totally loses all that courage and looks away, pretends to be interested in something on one of her screens, naturally chooses the one that's been acting up and hopes to god he can't see that it's in the middle of a restart.

When she chances a glance up at him again, he has that same unreadable expression on his face. "I could do that," he agrees. Looks pleased, she thinks. Possibly. "I should get going...can't let Sam beat my time."

She snorts, thinks of the two of them running side by side, both gradually turning up the incline and the speed until one of them needs to barf and shakes her head. "Have fun."

She watches him walk away, chin propped up on her hand, thinks about what she just offered and wonders when taking on someone else's burdens became a thing she wants to do again (figures it must have been some time between meeting him and waking up this morning). It's just – the idea of him, alone in his house and not _happy_ – she doesn't know. Probably, it's stupid and she'll never actually have to think about what she'll say because he'll never take her up on the offer.

Which is fine.

* * *

He knocks on her apartment door after shift three weeks later. She's just watching tv in her pajamas (like they have little cartoon pigs on them, t-shirt with holes it in that says 'fucking genius', no make up and the duvet from her bed hung around her shoulders like a cape) and she almost doesn't answer it because she thinks it's someone knocking on the wrong door, thinks if she doesn't get up, they'll just go away.

"…Hi."

"Someone was going out downstairs," he informs her, correctly reading the look on her face. "Am I disturbing you?"

"No! No. I'm just. Um." She takes in the exhaustion pinching at his face, how pale he looks in the shitty light from her hallway and thinks maybe sometimes, the person who's always there for you needs someone too. "Um. Do you...want to come in?"

"Okay."

He steps inside and she has to force herself to wipe what she knows is a look like she's totally out of her element off her face as she shuts the door. "Uh. Can I get you anything?"

Spike shakes his head, looks around like he's trying not to look like he's looking around.

"I was going to make some tea," she says, even though she wasn't really. It's something her mom does like 'oh, you broke up with your boyfriend? I'll make some tea', 'oh, you got fired? I'll make some tea' and possibly now it's just a bad habit that Winnie's adopted.

He leans against the counter as she fills the kettle with water and the space with noise. "My sister's coming home for a visit in February. Which, like, talk about timing, she hates snow so I don't know why she picked then but. My mom thinks she's gone and married her boyfriend but it's doubtful. You know. If it's not broke don't fix it. Or whatever."

He lets out the barest hint of a breath.

"Also, this guy Dahlia and I grew up with married this girl right out of high school who we all knew was like the worst ever but obviously, you can't tell someone who to date or fall in love with. Anyhow. Apparently, she's been cheating on him with a librarian. Or maybe it was a libertarian. I don't know. The point is, he's filing for divorce and she wants their house. How depressing is _that_?"

"That's pretty depressing," he says and his voice is a little rough but he looks a little more like the Spike she knows.

"Right? Unbelievable. Also, Jen told me that there was a call out in Scarborough and when Team Two got there, it was some teenager with a pellet gun shooting at birds on the electrical line." She rolls her eyes.

He smiles at her, small but she counts it as a victory.

She gets out two mugs, drops in two teabags, leaves them both black because apparently knowing how he takes his tea is now a thing she's familiar with. "You want an ice cube?"

"What?"

She sighs. "So that you can drink it right away. Work with me here."

He lets out this huff of what might be laughter but she's not positive. "Sure."

She drops a cube in each mug, hands him his and then they both stand awkwardly in her box of a kitchen. She has to flat out tell herself to stop shifting from foot to foot.

"Um. What are you watching?"

"Ancient Aliens." She snickers, rolls her eyes at herself. "Probably the least cool thing on tv."

He smiles at her tentatively. "I like that show."

She stands there for a second, and then the penny drops. "Oh um ok, we should watch it then. Have a seat." She leads the way back to the couch, slides onto one end and sits cross-legged. It's a little surreal, him in her space like this. Even before he asked her out and she started feeling _weird_ around him, they never like, _hung out_ at either one of their places, and like even those phone calls – well the point is there's a heaviness now that there wasn't before. And, the fact that it's not a _new_ thing nor is it a _bad _thing - ok really, she just needs to settle the fuck down.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye at the first commercial. "You ever get lonely, living alone?"

"Sometimes. But it's better than living with a bad roommate." God, ok seriously, what's with the honesty? If anyone else had asked, she'd just have said no, doesn't even want to touch what it is about him that makes her answer so openly.

"Never really had a roommate," he muses.

Winnie thinks about the myriad of people she's lived with since she moved out of her childhood home and swallows. "You're pretty lucky then. At least you've never come home to find your roommate wearing your underwear. And eating your food." She smiles, keeps her voice light.

Spike snorts. "Sounds disturbing."

She wants to tell him that it's not as disturbing as coming home to find your boyfriend shitfaced, surrounded by broken glass and blood, all your pictures of your best friend and your dead brother ripped into little pieces at his feet. She doesn't. "You um. You want to talk about it?"

"Not really." He clears his throat. "That okay?"

"I-of course."

They watch in silence until the ending credits roll and Winnie leaves the channel where it is, knows there's another episode on after.

"You said I could call you," he says suddenly, looking straight at the screen. "If I needed to."

"I did say that."

"So this is okay?"

"This is okay." More than okay, she thinks.

* * *

Ed stops by her desk the next morning. Winnie's up to her eyeballs in Team Four's intel, a little tired (Spike went home around 1:30 and she's not saying anything about it either way but she just had a bit of a hard time falling asleep after that) and she only notices him when she gets up to stretch her legs.

She points to the headset and he makes this motion like he's going to stand there and wait for her to finish. She covers the mouthpiece. "What do you need?"

"S'okay, I can wait."

She's about to answer but she's getting hit left and right with questions. Fifteen minutes later, he's still waiting and since she can finally take a breath, she mutes her headset.

"What's up?"

He gives her this smirk she doesn't understand, chalks it up to the fact that she's too tired to go around interpreting the looks on people's faces. "Sophie wants to have everyone over for dinner. Nothing fancy. Actually, I think she's using us all as guinea pigs. So. Friday after shift."

Dinner at the Lanes' is kind of what every other team is jealous of and no one ever turns down an invite - herself included. "What do I need to bring?"

He gives her a blank look. "Uh. I don't know. Nothing."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Well, it's going to be something so you might as well just tell me what."

He shrugs. "I really don't know. Whatever."

"Okay."

"So Friday."

"Yep."

"After work."

"Got it."

"The team'll be there. Kids. If applicable. And you know, significant others." He gives her a _significant_ look. "You going to bring anyone?"

She snorts. "Like who?" Sometimes, she thinks that Ed is more interested in her love life than she is.

"Just checking. So that's a no?"

"That's a no." She unmutes her headset and shrugs at him apologetically. And then she forgets all about dinner at the Lanes' until the end of shift.

She runs into Spike in the elevator as she's frantically searching all her pockets for her metropass and thinking that she'd had it that morning, wonders what it is about their timing that they always seem to run into each other even though their shift times don't always overlap exactly (thought he was done forty minutes ago, is all, but then again, Leah was hanging around in the locker room when Winnie was getting dressed so maybe they're planning some kind of prank that she wants nothing at all to do with).

"Hey Winnie."

She grins at him. "Hey yourself. How's it going?"

"Good. You? You lose something?"

She sighs. "My pass. I mean, okay, it's somewhere here but with my luck, it's at the bottom of my bag underneath my fifty piles of crap."

"Want a ride home?"

"What happened to 'I should be driving less'?"

He snickers. "Yeah well. It's a hard choice to make at 4:30 in the morning. And other than those two people who got caught doing it on the Spadina subway platform, who really likes the TTC _that_ much?"

She laughs.

"So? Ride home?"

"Oh, don't worry about it, I have to stop at Metro anyhow. Thanks though."

"Groceries?"

"No that thing on Friday. I was just going to make brownies and call it a day. I mean, it seems a bit, you know. She's a caterer. Anything I make we'll all know she could have made better."

Spike snickers. "That's true."

She rolls her eyes. "Charming. Um thanks though."

He gives her a speculative look. "I don't mind."

"What?"

"We can stop at Metro. It's not a big deal."

What she should do is tell him that she's fine, doesn't need an escort just to buy flour and chocolate but she looks up at him and she doesn't want to tell him anything like that at all. "Okay."

So they get in the car and her chest is doing that weird thing it does when she's close to him and seriously _seriously_, she thinks that this kind of feels like this is something other than two friends running an errand. And it's neither terrifying nor unbalanced. Which is terrifying and unbalancing in and of itself. It's a thing she's been finding lately around him, this feeling like she's possibly capable of anything, she doesn't even know.

He follows her down the aisles, pushes the cart ("No baskets, Spike. Without fail, you remember that you needed to buy something else and then you end up hauling around five cartons of milk and they're heavy"), makes fun of her cereal choices and the fact that she buys organic apples but also, she's laughing even as she tries to glare at him. He takes stuff right out of her hands and puts it straight in the cart – it's weird, a kind of grocery shopping she's never actually done before.

It's also kind of nice and she tries to push that thought away immediately.

He tells her about this one time when he was a kid, he and his friend opened two family-size boxes of cornflakes and threw them up in the air over his friend's older sister and her boyfriend. Spike had talked the store manager out of calling both their parents and then his friend's older sister had walked him home and told his Ma. Winnie imagines a young Spike and can't stop laughing.

When they pull into the driveway of her apartment, he looks at her and says, "You want some help with all that stuff?"

And like, she can carry her own flour but she looks at him and says, "Sure. Want to help me bake?" What in the hell is even coming out of her mouth? She vaguely remembers a conversation from the same day he asked her out, something about cooking and assistants, she doesn't even know but she does remember him saying he wasn't volunteering for the job. Which pretty much means, she's just dug her own awkward grave and-

"Yeah, okay." He has a look on his face that she can't read, meets her eyes steadily before he pulls into a visitor's spot.

She gets out of the car, lets him take the grocery bags out of her hand and like, this is a specific _thing_ that's happening here, like they're going up in the elevator together and they're going to be baking in her small kitchen where there's barely enough room for an eight year old. She thinks she's probably past the point where she can figure out if this is yet another thing that friends do.

She's just pretty sure that friends don't feel the way she usually ends up feeling around him.

She pushes that thought away too.

It's been about a hundred years since she made brownies (her and Dahlia, probably around seventeen, bag of pot open on the counter beside them, first and last time they ever attempted that – maybe she should have decided to make cookies tonight instead) but her mom's recipe is taped to the inside of one of her cupboards, has always been one of those things she's had with her.

Spike snickers when she swings it open and starts squinting at it.

"I don't know why you're even bothering," he says helpfully. "Like you said. She's a caterer. Why don't you just do what I'm doing and bring a case of beer?"

She sighs, doesn't bother turning to look at him. "Because," she says patiently, "I'm not one of the dudes on her husband's team."

He snorts. "Whatever you say."

Baking with him is decidedly not like the few other times she's baked. He stands right there, pre-heats her oven without her asking him to, places the dirty dishes in her sink when she hands them to him (even starts washing a few before she tells him to leave it, she'll get to it later – no guy has ever washed her dishes before), and the whole time, they talk about nothing, the first time his mother asked him to go to the store alone, how she and Mel used to pick their neighbours' flowers and rip the petals into confetti. She tells him about the time her gym teacher split the class into boys and girls, told the boys to play football and the girls to watch and Dahlia had said, "Yeah, no, I want to play," even though she didn't like sports and certainly didn't like football and that had been the end of segregated gym class.

He laughs and she thinks that it's a nice sound that echoes around her small apartment.

He sits on the counter when she slides the pan into the oven and she leans her arms next to him.

He looks down at her and grins. "You've got flour everywhere."

She follows his gaze, also figures the flour is all over her face (also thinks it's mostly his fault, blowing a cloud of flour across the countertop and snickering childishly when she'd let out a yelp. Obviously, she'd done the exact same thing and now - well she's got some cleaning up to do). She shrugs. "We already established who the caterer is."

"Neither one of us?"

"Neither one of us," she confirms, suddenly realizes she's standing really close to him and backs up a little, pretends she needs some water. "You want anything?"

"I'm good."

It's suddenly occurred to her that he's here, right up in her space, way closer than across the table from each other or at opposite ends of the couch and it's not weird. It's kind of the opposite of weird.

She tries not to think about after he leaves. It's possible that she doesn't really succeed.


	7. Chapter 7

Pete, the utter bastard, is running forty minutes late. He's texted her fifteen times to say he's on his way but Winnie's also pretty sure that when he was 'on his way' forty minutes ago, he was actually still in bed.

Spike's already changed out of his uniform, forearms resting on her desk and she's got her feet up on the shelf, leaning back in her chair. They're just talking, nothing serious but she wonders why he doesn't just go to Ed's – she doesn't need to be kept company until her relief gets there. She doesn't say anything though, is kind of enjoying having the sound of his voice around her (plus he's making her laugh so).

He looks up, grin still on his face. "Buddy! You're late."

She shakes her head at Spike. "Understatement. Pete, seriously."

Pete gives her what he obviously thinks is a winning smile. "Thanks for covering for me, Win."

She rolls her eyes. "I didn't really get a choice." They all cover for each other all the time - they just spend a little more time covering for Pete than he does for anyone else.

He grins. "I owe you a chocolate bar."

She pauses as she gets to her feet, sliding her headset off. "Better not be fun-size, I know how you hoard the Halloween candy."

Spike snorts and she pauses, wonders if he always looks like that when he's smiling, like his face is like, _attractive _or something and then inwardly rolls her eyes at herself. Obviously, she needs to be fed.

She can just see Pete gearing up for an off-colour joke about fun-sizes so she shakes her head at him. "I'm going to get changed – don't even say it. Spike, I'll see you later!"

"Say what?" Pete calls after her innocently.

She shakes her head, smiling as she makes her way to the locker room, changes her clothes, tries to do something with her hair.

She jumps about a mile when someone knocks on the door which is stupid because it's a locker room, not the secret vault of a bank. It's just – people don't usually knock on the door when she's in here alone (usually, it's Sam looking for Jules and Jules is changing right next to her).

"Yeah?" she calls out.

"Just me."

She pauses, shirt almost pulled on properly, adjusts it and calls out, "Uh, okay. Come in."

Spike peers around the door. "Sorry, just wanted to say I got side-tracked talking to Pete. You want a ride?"

Which is how they end up driving to the Lanes' house together. There's this brief second where she's standing on the doorstep that she wonders what it'll look like, the two of them turning up together but then Ed swings open the door and she's suddenly hit in the face with so much noise that she totally forgets all about it.

"We wondered if you'd got lost," Ed says to Spike, gives him this eyebrow raise that Winnie doesn't understand the significance of, Izzy firmly under one arm.

"Sorry, that was my fault," she says. "Dispatchers – never on time."

Ed grins at her. "Well at least you guys made it. Soph's in the kitchen. I'd take you in there but she basically told me to stop trying to help so-"

"We got it," Spike interrupts, leans over to hoist Izzy up in his arms. "Hey little doll, how are you?"

Winnie hides a smile, not like this is news, kids always like him and Izzy is no exception, leaning her cheek against his shoulder and smiling.

He glances sideways at her. "Win, you want a drink?"

She shrugs, follows him inside (Leah grins at the two of them, this look like she wants to sigh dreamily, before she reaches her arms out for Izzy - Winnie thinks it's probably time the other woman stepped up to the plate and just had a kid of her own), stopping briefly to wave at Jules and Sam. She's just handed her container of brownies to Sophie when someone behind her says, "Winnie Camden, as I live and breathe!"

She turns around grinning, would know that voice blindfolded in the rain. "Wordy, hey!"

He picks her up like she's one of his kids, sets her down on the ground and looks at her face carefully. "Yeah, you look about the same. Good to see you."

"You too! Where's Shellie?"

"Dealing with the girls – fighting. Obviously."

She snorts. "Yeah. Girls do that."

"Ha ha." He glances behind her, grins widely. "Spike!"

"Word! Nice of Ed to tell us you were coming eh?" Winnie grins when he does, thinks being around family does a really nice thing to his face before she inwardly gives herself a shake. What in the hell, even? She definitely needs food.

Wordy snorts, knocks him on the back a couple of times. "No surprise." He raises an eyebrow at the drink Spike hands her. "Where's mine?"

"Like I said, I didn't know you were coming," Spike says with an eye roll.

Sophie's at the stove but she keeps turning around to grin at them and actually, it's starting to weird Winnie out a little bit. Usually, Sophie's really chilled out and cool but she looks a little manic right now. Winnie chalks it up to the billions of pots and pans she's tending to.

It's just casual, Sophie laying things out on plates as she finishes them, setting the plates down and everyone just grabbing right off of them (she tells Winnie not to bother helping, to go and mingle – but that she wants honest opinions later and hey, maybe she should bring Spike another drink).

Winnie does what she says, looks around a couple of hours later and realizes that Spike's pretty much been standing with her all night and she hasn't even really talked to anyone else, looks up and sees both Wordy and Sophie staring at her with these pleased looks on their faces.

"What?" Spike leans closer to ask.

She shakes her head, glances up and thinks his eyes are just stupidly warm, friendly and inviting – and that she needs to stop thinking about his _eyes _of all things. "I dunno. What's up with the two of them?"

Spike follows her gaze and both of them look away immediately, like they're incredibly interested in the photographs on the mantle. He sighs. "They're ridiculous," he mutters. "Ignore them."

She shrugs. "What? Food in my teeth? You'd better not be letting me stand here with chocolate all over my face."

He smiles, shakes his head. "There's nothing on your face, it's perfect." He says it offhandedly, like 'the sky is blue, the grass is green, your face is perfect'.

And three months ago, that would have made her blush and look away, change the subject. But things are different now, she knows that even if she can't admit it, and so she just rolls her eyes at him. "I notice you didn't say anything about my teeth."

He snorts. "I figured you were saving all that stuff for later."

She laughs, shoves at him and happens to glance up again. Leah's joined Wordy and Sophie and all three of them are wearing matching expressions, like they're watching Sidney Crosby score the winning goal. She raises an eyebrow, waves hesitantly and she can hear Spike snickering beside her.

"Is it some terrible practical joke they're planning?" she asks, glancing at Spike. "Is this going to be like that time Wordy put all that pepper in Sam's burger? Cause if we're going with a repeat of that, I'd like to be five blocks away when Sam finds out."

Spike laughs. "Yeah, I don't know what's up with them."

But he also gives her this look that she can't read, kind of like the way Sam glances at Jules sometimes when he doesn't think anyone else is looking.

It throws her off, and she misses the next couple of things he says, takes a moment to get back into the conversation. She doesn't know what he's talking about, is just gazing up at him and thinks that possibly, she wouldn't complain if it was just the two of them right now, no audience whatsoever. The realization of which kind of, you know, makes her feel like her stomach's just dropped through her shoes.

She escapes as soon as someone dares to join their conversation, leaves him with Sam talking about cheese, finds herself with Dean (who's mopey about a girl, she can just tell) and Leah, who's got Izzy on her lap, the two of them chatting away like old friends. It's just – it can be a little intense, realizing you've been monopolizing one person the whole evening.

She ends up sandwiched between Wordy's oldest and Jules on one of the couches, Ed's daughter sitting on her feet and giggling while Clark and Dean do their best to entertain her (also, she's quite sure that Wordy's oldest kid has a huge crush on Clark, she keeps looking at him and then blushing and looking away).

Spike's lying on the floor playing with Wordy's other two kids and Winnie takes a second to watch that, like he is just so easy-going, letting them climb all over him and jump on him, screech in his ears, giggle madly when he does funny voices.

Leah leans over the back of the couch. "This is nice."

Winnie glances up, catches Ed giving Sophie a kiss, Shellie perched on Wordy's lap and thinks that it's beyond nice. Feels like family.

Spike smiles up at her and she smiles back, only just catches how Leah and Jules turn to each other with big grins on their faces.

"What?"

"It's just nice. Like she said." Jules leans her head against Winnie's shoulder.

She gets up to leave when Leah does, figures they can take the subway together, sees Sophie give Spike this glare she doesn't understand, wonders if he dropped crumbs on the floor or something and then he clears his throat and goes, "Need a ride home, Win?"

"Um-" she glances at Leah out of the corner of her eye.

"We're driving Leah," Sam says from behind her and honestly, didn't he _just_ get up to go to the bathroom, how in the hell did he even hear that? Plus five minutes ago, Leah was taking the subway.

Sarge is flat out grinning at her, Marina standing next to him with this affectionate expression on her face and Winnie thinks that an absurd amount of people are interested in how she's getting home.

"I can just-"

"No!" Sam says and she's a little taken aback by how abrupt he sounds. "I mean. No. No point in subwaying, right?" He lets out this chuckle that sounds completely foreign.

She glances at Spike and he looks like he's a second away from laughing. "You sure?"

Spike snickers before he says, "Yeah, it's no problem."

Sophie hugs her firmly, kisses her on the cheek and Winnie has this fleeting thought like she misses her mom, thinks she should haul her ass up to St Cats one of these days. "Thanks for inviting me."

Sophie grins at her, looks equal parts excited and like she's been googling cute cat videos. "Hopefully we'll see more of you soon."

It takes a _really_ long time to say goodbye, just the way Team One events go, someone always getting sidetracked or looking for revenge for getting poked in the ribs (you'd never think that most of these people saw each other every single day or anything). But when they're finally in the car and Spike's jacking up the heating, she smiles, leans across and points the vent in his direction.

He gives her this look after, this weird, long look, opens his mouth like he's going to say something and then closes it and she just smiles back, settles into her chair, feels like she's at ease in the way she is around her family and Dahlia, people who've known her her whole life.

They talk about nothing the whole way there and she's still laughing when they pull up to her apartment building. So before she can lose her nerve, she leans over and hugs him quickly. "Thanks for the ride!"

Then she escapes inside, doesn't look back.

* * *

It's just under two weeks later on a Tuesday when Winnie gets this jolt like wow, is she ever an idiot and how blind and plain ass _stupid_ can a person be?

It's like she looks up, sees Spike from across her desk and everything shifts.

What actually happens is that Dahlia calls her on her way to work, informs her that she's getting dragged to a club for someone's birthday tomorrow and that Winnie's coming with her and then says, "So. Any updates?"

And Winnie knows what updates she's referring to but she just rolls her eyes and says, "Nope."

Dahlia snorts and says, "You know, it's not that easy to find someone who makes you _laugh_."

And Winnie's still thinking about that when she looks up, sees Spike laughing at Sam, who made a little joke an hour ago at Jules' expense and who is now wearing what looks like half a bottle of ketchup on his t-shirt. Jules (who evidently knows that revenge is a dish best served when the other party isn't expecting it) looks pleased with herself, Sarge is shaking his head, Ed and Leah have identical looks on their faces like they're above the whole thing but are finding it hilarious all the same and Sam is doing his best to wipe ketchup off of himself complaining the whole time that couldn't she have picked mustard or cheez-whiz, she knows he hates ketchup.

Winnie's looking at Spike though, who's leaning over howling, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes.

Usually, him laughing is enough to set her off, his laugh so catching, so completely contagious, it makes her laugh too, but this time, she just feels like's she watching through a window, like there's a disconnect.

She's a complete and total _idiot_, is what she is because really, Dahlia's right and she never laughs as hard as she does when she's with him. And also, if she's honest, she really just wants to walk right up to him, kiss him right there with everyone watching, wants to simultaneously tie him to her bed and like, have him walk her home and hold her hand the whole way there. She wants his hands on her, also just wants his thumbs on her cheekbones, wants to see if his chest is as solidly built as she thinks it is.

She wants coffee in the mornings before work when the sky is still pink and cloudless, his hand on her neck as he reaches for something out of the fridge, that smile that's only for her, the one that makes her do things like go skating even though she can't skate and say yes to sushi at ten o'clock at night just so she can spend time with him. She wants _them_, exactly how they are but with no walls between them, no fear, no filters. She wants the balance that they have, his hand steadying her, wants to give him all the things that she's scared of. She wants to be the one to make him laugh, to pull him back up when he's sad, wants like, a _future_ with him, instead of navigating a present pretending that she doesn't.

She suddenly sees them the way he does, all the things that are best about them magnified, all that great stuff (the way they laugh together, how she cried in front of him and he never made her feel weak, how he just keeps showing up and she never ever wants him to _leave_) as something to hold her up, rather than something to tear her down with later. Neither one of them ever having to be alone, everything freely given, no conditions, nothing she needs to bargain for.

"Hey, Winnie! You alive over there?" he calls over to her, looks back at Sam's shirt and laughs all over again.

Alive? She doesn't know, feels like she's been drowning and hasn't known it, has woken up from a dream she didn't know she was having, like everything that made sense yesterday just doesn't make sense now.

Also. Dizzy. She's a little dizzy. Too much air or not enough air, it's definitely one of those.

"All right, all right, enough. Five minutes and then we're doing laps." Ed clapping his hands together nearly startles her.

"What, again? I mean...who doesn't love running laps in full gear," Spike says, forcing the whine out of his voice by the last word.

"That's the spirit." Ed turns to leave and then looks back at all of them. "Move it, Team One, it's not like we have all day here."

Sarge stops by Winnie's desk, the only one who's already dressed and studies her with those sharp eyes. "You doing okay?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine." She's not fine. She feels like she's coming down from some kind of weird high, everything a little out of focus.

"Okay." He smiles, looking down at the notes he has in his hand, looks back up and flicks his eyes to where Spike is trying to stop Sam from giving him a ketchup-covered hug outside the door to the locker room, gives her a look. "Sam really doesn't like ketchup. Probably why she picked it."

Winnie just stares up at him, says something incomprehensible in response.

He smiles at her fondly like she's Dean's age, nods. "Right. We'll uh, see you on the headset."

Her face feels hot but she also feels this rush of affection for him, for the entire team, for people who can communicate everything they're feeling with the right words. She wishes she was more like that, wishes she knew the right words to say at the right time.

Wishes she hadn't been scared of saying yes.

She thinks about how Spike looks at her and realizes that it's possible she's been looking back. More than possible.

She also thinks that it's possible that they're already dating, without her ever realizing that's what they were doing. And the world hasn't ended, her life hasn't suddenly fallen into disaster, her soul still feels pretty much intact. If anything-

If anything, she feels more like herself than she has in years.

She wonders if this feeling is something she can ease into, thinks that maybe, if Dahlia's right and Spike asks her out again, maybe her answer will be different.

There's a silly grin on her face before they get their next hot call, before someone else in the world needs her to send her team out.

It's how everything changes.


	8. Chapter 8

Bomb calls have rules. Rules about things you can and can't do, about who can and can't do them (_one man down range_, always shouted as a reminder – sometimes Winnie needs the reminder too).

This is a team built on steady-hands, on keeping calm in a crisis, on knowing what to do before you have to do it but Winnie doesn't have to know how to keep an MP5 straight without her muscles trembling, doesn't have to know how to speak with her hands and her mouth to save someone from getting their brains splashed out all over the asphalt, doesn't have to know how to disarm a bomb she's never even seen before.

It's not like she isn't listening, she is, waiting for someone to ask her for something she can actually give them. But she's not really hearing much, feels like she's still back in time by about forty-five minutes, Spike and Sam finding what they were looking for, the PATH jam-packed with people at lunch time.

She's back in that moment where Spike very quietly and calmly told Sam to get out.

Winnie's got traffic cams on her screens, is looking for a match, scared to shit that this will be one of those times when they're not fast enough (when _she's_ not fast enough).

She knows Sam leaves, she knows that, knows Unis have been dispatched to evacuate civilians immediately (she sent them out herself). And then Sam goes back and Spike yells at him until he leaves, something about rulebooks and specific things that aren't worth risking. She thinks her breath hitches at that.

The rest of the team is arguing with each other over the headsets, Ed and Jules trying to reason the bomber's motivations out while Boss shouts at the Unis to keep it moving, keep it moving.

Winnie can hear the worry in all the things Spike isn't saying, can still hear that scream when Lew-

She keeps trying to tell herself that this is different, that what happened to Lew was a freak accident and that Spike knows what he's doing. He's the best, never forgets the things he reads, reads a lot about bombs, she knows he does. She has to push away the thought of him kneeling alone on a tile floor so that she can do her job.

"Guys, I think I've got him! Subject's car spotted, traveling west on Wellington, just east of York." She's nearly made herself cross eyed looking for a blue sedan, plates ending in AN9 but she knows what's she's seen, just a flash at the top of one of the screens.

Ed and Sam are talking about where to cut him off, if he might book it down a one way, but it's Spike who says, "Win, can we get a roadblock at Wellington and Bay? He'll make a loop. Guys, he's going to want to stay in the area, probably wants to watch."

"You got it." She's trying to be professional, trying to pretend that it does nothing to her whatsoever to hear his voice that calm, is trying to do her job but she keeps thinking about Lew. He knew what he was doing too. She thinks about that call Ed made, how sometimes the right call can feel totally fucking wrong. She's watching the clock at the corner of the screen, has it down to milliseconds, thinks that if there's anyone who can do this, it's Spike, and that if he can't-

If he can't-

Her hands are hovering over the keyboard, she's waiting for instructions but her stomach and her heart and all her other organs are somewhere near her throat and her fingers are clenching and unclenching.

She wonders what it says about her that she wishes it was someone else kneeling on that floor.

It just feels like if this is one of those times when they're not fast enough, if this is one of those calls that ends in a bad shift – she just doesn't know how she's going to get up and do this all again tomorrow, is all.

Dimly, she hears Sam and Jules apprehending their bomb-maker, Sam a little heavy handed with him (she would be too, is the thing, because someone on her team is sitting there trying to dismantle them all at the same time so that the entire fucking block doesn't collapse, _Spike_ is sitting there trying to dismantle them) but it's Jules who talks to him until he tells her that she can't stop the timer, can't stop the inevitable.

Jules keeps talking to him, nice and easy, doing all those things that she's supposed to do exactly the way she's supposed to do them. He tells her he lost a child. A wife. His job. That he'd never been a good enough father or husband. That they took everything from him, some small company on the twenty-third floor of the Scotia Plaza. Winnie wants to bury her face in her hands, thinks that she's heard this a hundred times before and every time, she just _can't-_

He also tells her that he buried all his prototypes, didn't destroy them.

She gets them the address before anyone even has to ask for it.

Leah is breaking every single traffic law there is and Sarge keeps going, "Spike? You still with us, buddy?"

And Spike keeps answering, "Yeah, Boss, still here," super patiently, like he's chilling on a beach somewhere, drink in hand, instead of in a small bathroom in the PATH trying to take apart three bombs before one of them detonates and explodes, takes all the office workers who haven't gotten out yet with it, takes the whole block with it.

Takes him with it.

Winnie holds her breath as Leah says she's digging, as Spike tells her to be _careful_ because god knows what she's going to find and the last thing they need is-

Leah strikes gold, talks as fast as she can, explains what she's seeing but she's not their demolitions expert and she's trying to give him something that he can actually use and even though her voice is cool and as placid as ever, there's an undercurrent of fear, and Winnie is holding her breath as the timer moves closer and closer to zero.

Spike is still calm and she can almost picture his hands, composed and steady, telling them all what he's doing like they can possibly understand the intricacy, the puzzle, the way he sees everything pieced together so that he can break it all apart.

Sarge goes, "Can't you just cut the wires?"

Winnie thinks every single one of them nods at that.

Spike very patiently says, "No, Boss. Doesn't really work that way." And then he's back to explaining, all sorts of things Winnie can't actually even picture seeing, his words bleeding into each other in her head. She hopes she gets the chance to ask him to teach her, show her. It's a specific thing she wants, all of a sudden, something she didn't realize she needed before right now, right this second.

Her fear for Spike's life is actually out-weighing all the fear she walks around with the rest of the time, the things she keeps thinking will go wrong, all the ways she's not going to be able to follow through on the things she wants. She thinks that she wants him to drop this bomb and just come _home_, walk in the doors from the garage, smile at her, make her laugh, offer her a ride, all those things that he usually does.

She thinks that right now, right in this second, she wants everything, no more halves.

Spike's still talking, faster now and Winnie's looking at the corner of her screen, this sudden clear thought that she wants him to kiss her and she wants to kiss him and she doesn't want to go the rest of her life without knowing what that would be like.

He counts down the ones left, "One disarmed, two to go", "Two down, one left", "Bombs disarmed," and Winnie hears the whole team inhale right after that, one single being.

She can't though. She's still firmly perched back in time, still seeing the seconds that are left, still hearing Spike telling Sam to get out, still hearing Lew say that everything is going to be-

Several minutes later, when Winnie thinks she can breathe again, she mutes her headset, buries her face in her lap and tries to take deep breaths, holds in her air and lets it out slowly. She feels hopeless during calls like that, like all she can do is listen and sometimes it just-

Her mouth feels dry, like she's been dry-swallowing dirt and she suddenly has the thought of what her life would be like without the SRU in it, without calls like this, without people dying and being too late and always catching people at their very worst moments.

Then she thinks about mornings and nights without Spike making her laugh, without Spike period, about not making any difference in the world whatsoever, about some other dispatcher watching over her teams.

His eyes meet hers when Team One walks inside from the garage, all of them boxing him in like they can keep him safe if he's surrounded. She doesn't know what expression is on her face and for the first time she can remember, he walks past her without saying anything, eyes on hers until the door to the briefing room closes. She wants to ask him if he was scared, as scared as she was but it's like she already knows the answer, knows that it would have been a different kind of fear, that he is braver every single day than she's ever been in her whole life.

Her shift was over thirty-five minutes ago and she's still in her chair, getting in Pete's way. He read the transcripts when he got there though, hasn't said a word, just patted her on the shoulder once, is navigating around her.

"Sorry. I'll move." The words feel like they're sticking somewhere below her throat.

"Take your time, Win. That was intense eh? Looks like Spike was awesome. Again. What do you think the other teams do without one of him?"

Winnie just looks at him, doesn't answer. Has no idea what her answer would be if she could get the words out. She gets up, smiles tightly and heads to the locker room. Stumbles onto the bench and sits down, thinks about all the things she wants and all the things she hides and all the things she doesn't want to lose.

She's come to rely on him, is the thing, on his _face_ and his hands on her desk first thing in the morning, on his thoughtfulness, on silly jokes and messages that make her smile. _His_ smile. And when she thinks about how close she just came to losing all of it-

When she thinks about Lew's funeral and the fact that they just came _so close_ to-

It takes her several minutes to steady her legs enough that she can open her locker and change. Takes her several more to figure out the button on her jeans. She packs up her things, adrenaline still in her system, still making her hands shake a little, even though all she had to do was sit there. It's not like she just had to dig through pounds of soil looking for explosives, or interrogate a suspect and cajole him into telling her everything. Not like she just had to sit on a tiled floor all alone.

She looks at the closed door of the briefing room before she nods at Pete. "Have a good shift." Her voice sounds gravelly, hoarse, like she's been sobbing for days even though she hasn't shed a tear.

He smiles at her sympathetically, tells her to get some sleep.

She walks home like a robot, actually looks around in confusion when she gets to her apartment, can't remember the walk there. She puts her bag away, hangs her coat on the back of a chair, takes a shower, washes her hair. Her stomach is still in knots, that feeling like she's running late even though she knows she has nowhere to go.

She gets dressed, towel dries her hair and the whole time, she thinks about the way Spike looked at her as he walked past her desk, the way he looks at her every time she sees him, like he's genuinely happy to see her, like she's _something_.

Her hands are still shaking.

She fills the kettle, sets it on the stove, doesn't turn the stove on. She keeps imagining the day going the other way, keeps hearing phantom screams in her head and she knows no one let out any of those sounds but-

He could have been gone. He could have been gone and she would never have known what it was like to take a _chance_.

Winnie stares out her window, looks at the city without seeing it, thinks that small stones can make big ripples, that you can drown in three feet of water, that people can die before you're ready to let them go.

She thinks that being brave can mean different things, that it can mean leaving and staying in the same moment, that being a coward can mean you stayed when you should have left and left when you should have stayed but that never taking a chance, well that makes you a coward, no matter how you look at it.

It's enough.

She's had enough. Enough of fighting what she already feels, enough of trying to stop the inevitable, enough of wanting what she thinks she shouldn't. She thinks it's time to start trying not to be afraid.

She picks up her keys, jams her metropass into the back pocket of her jeans and races out the door. Doesn't wait for the elevator.

Her hair's still wet.

'This is stupid,' is what she thinks the entire way there, winter air freezing the ends of her hair. Feels like it's even stupider when he doesn't answer his doorbell.

Feels even stupider than that when she takes a seat on his front steps and waits, her fingers tapping out a rhythm she doesn't know on her thighs. She pulls her coat tighter around her, wishes she had a scarf. They're probably at The Goose, if she knows anything about her team at all, probably being glad that they're all together, all still alive, compensating for earlier by being loud and raucous. The thought alone makes her smile.

She thinks it'll be Ed who gets the first round, thinks it'll probably be the only round they end up getting. He'll call Sophie, tell her it's good to hear her voice, she'll pass the phone to Clark. Sarge will call Dean, maybe Marina. Just let them speak, won't say a word. Sam and Jules will sit together, hands barely touching but every time one of them moves, the other will mirror the change. Leah will call her family, keep ducking out so that she can hear them. They'll all see her through the glass, all white teeth, big smile.

The funny thing is that she can't see Spike. Not in this little vision she's having. She knows he's there (he's always there, in the things, the future, she thinks about), but she can't see who he'll call.

Wonders if, in another life, another time, it could have been her.

And then she thinks that maybe it's not too late for that possibility.

All those feelings of stupidity go out the window when she sees his car pull up and park, when she sees the headlights turn off. She feels progressively less and less stupid when she sees him open the door and get out, start walking towards his front door, when she sees the moment that he sees her, how he stops dead and just stares.

Has he always looked at her like that? She doesn't know, doesn't remember. It makes her mouth dry. Like he's seeing something great, like she's his future and his past and everything in between. She doesn't feel stupid at all when he looks at her like that.

He walks up to her slowly, gives her this cautious smile.

Winnie gets to her feet, ignores how hard her heart is beating, how fast, thinks about her rules, about her life, opens her mouth to say hi and instead says, "Do you want to go to dinner with me some time?"

The smile that spreads across his face?

It's worth it.

* * *

.

.

.

A/N: When I first envisioned this story, I saw this as the end (if you're interested, this is the first chapter I ever finished – so I always knew that eventually, this is where we would get to). I am so grateful to anyone who has done anything whatsoever in that little white box below and hope those who were just here to read have enjoyed it.

I feel like I've asked you to come pretty far with me here, into the point of view and the life of a secondary character, and so I'm hoping that you'll be willing to come a little bit further (as an aside, I kind of feel like Andy Dufresne right now).

Because a couple of chapters into this story, I realized that it couldn't end here, that there was still a journey for these two to go on, still things that had to be brought up and dealt with. I don't feel like I'm quite done with these two in this setting - actually, I know I'm not because there are some more chapters in progress.

So, I hope you'll stick with me. And if not, thank you for reading this far!


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Pretty sure I screwed up the chapters there when I originally posted this - fixed now (but, considering that I deal with numbers for a living, you'd think I'd know the difference between a 9 and a 6).

* * *

Winnie kind of thinks maybe he'll step forward and kiss her or something but Spike's suddenly all, 'it's been brought to my attention' and she's torn between bursting into slightly-hysterical laughter and just shaking so hard she falls right out of her boots and like, her hair is still _wet. _It's all she can do to keep her mouth closed and not say anything humiliating that will come back to haunt her later.

So she smiles tremulously up at him, tells him she'll see him at work and then turns and starts walking back home, wants to let out a whoop but like also, she knows him and she can feel his eyes on her and she doesn't want to do anything foolish like wipe out on the sidewalk.

He catches up to her before the end of the block, this smile on his face, walks beside her with his hands in his pockets more than half way there, neither one of them saying anything (all that comfortable silence, relief and hope too, maybe) and then he reaches down and grasps her fingers in his. She stares straight ahead, grinning in the darkness, thinks she probably looks deranged. Doesn't really care. It's not exactly a five minute walk back to her apartment but also, she doesn't want to ruin it with fluorescent lights or other people so she doesn't even slow down at the streetcar stops. He glances at her every time they pass one and it's just – it's not a bad look that he gives her, is all.

Spike stops walking abruptly a block from her place, jerks her back just a little, their fingers still intertwined.

"What are you-"

He takes a step forward, right into her space, cups her face in his hands and kisses her. Winnie freezes right before she kisses him back, like she hadn't actually thought she'd ever get to, and then melts right into him, fingers reaching up to grasp his forearms, hopes he can taste all these complicated things she feels for him on her tongue. He's a little more aggressive than she thought he might be (not that she like, _thought_ about how he kisses, just you know, maybe a little) but in a nice way, a good way, like he wants all of her.

Also, it's possibly the best kiss she's ever had, his hands warm and nearly-familiar on her skin, lips making her feel things she's not ready to face right in the pit of her stomach, tongue sliding against hers in a way that feels like they should really consider bottling it as the answer to the world's problems. He rests his forehead against hers, smiles against her mouth.

She thinks she should say something, like how if she'd known he'd kiss her like that, her rule would have fallen by the wayside even sooner, how she had never realized that a kiss could make you feel invincible instead of trapped, how she's wanted him pressed right up against her for longer than she's been willing to admit, how they're currently standing in the middle of a deserted road and no one's ever kissed her in the street like she was just too important, never so desperately, like he might never get the chance to do it again.

She doesn't end up saying anything at all because Spike presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist and she honest to god almost swoons. It's a stupid word her mom used to use and Winnie's never known what in the hell it even _means_ but-

He laces their fingers together, gives her this grin that's half-hidden in shadow and they start walking again. She wonders if it would be completely inappropriate to invite him upstairs, ask him to kiss her like that some more and regretfully realizes that they haven't gone out yet, it's after midnight and that there's really only one way to take an invitation like that. Then she starts thinking about the only way to take an invitation like that and has to look away, cheeks flushed (and like, okay, it has been a _long_ time and an even longer time than that since she's really liked someone and she might be a hundred years late to the party but she does. She really just _likes_ him).

"Thursday?"

It takes her a second to figure out what he's talking about, his voice hoarse and deeper than she's ever heard it. She thinks about that crap Dahlia always says about pretending like you're busy and making a guy wait and acting cool and then resolutely ignores every single rule she's ever heard. "Thursday as in two days from now?"

He shrugs, tries to hide a smile. "I need a little notice."

She clears her throat. "8:30?"

"8?" Gives her that cheeky grin like he's been putting water balloons in Sam's vest before a training exercise.

She tries to hide her own grin and fails completely. "8."

"I'll pick you up."

She starts saying that she's the one who asked him and should really be the one to do all the heavy lifting and then starts laughing when he just claps one hand dramatically over her mouth.

"I asked you first."

He kisses her lazily, brushes his nose against hers and she's practically shuddering before he takes the keys out of her hand to unlock the door for her, holds it open. He leans down and kisses her again as he hands her keys back and she's actually surprised when she doesn't just drop them right on the ground. He smiles at her and she knows she should turn and go upstairs but she leans up to kiss him one more time, one of his hands at the back of her head, the other still holding the door, completely ignoring the three people who have to walk around them even as Winnie snickers childishly into his mouth and does her best not to ask him to come upstairs with her.

She lies flat on her back on top of the covers of her bed, thinks that it feels like she's finally wrapped a band-aid around a paper cut and also like she's so tired but could get up and run a marathon.

Also, she can't remember the last time she laid here, felt so still, like she could finally _breathe_, like she could laugh and cry in the same second. She wants to shake the Winnie from so many weeks ago, the one who turned him down across a desk for a stupid rule that doesn't even make sense when she looks at him. Thinks about the time she wasted and then thinks about skating and rides home and him and it doesn't seem quite so wasted anymore.

She thinks about that smile, the way he looked at her right before he kissed her standing in the street, like he was happy.

That's what she thinks about as she slips into sleep, that she wants to be up to the job of making someone else smile.

* * *

She's early the next morning, is leaning on the desk chatting with Jen when she feels someone's eyes on her back.

She glances behind her, catches Spike staring at her ass before he pulls his eyes back up to hers.

"Officer Scarlatti," she greets him, grinning. Clearly, putting on these jeans had been a wise decision. And also, it does really ridiculous things to her insides that he's looking.

"Hey Winnie," he says, returning her grin with one of his own.

They're both just standing there looking at each other when Jen clears her throat, looks like she's trying not to smile. "Morning Spike."

"Morning Jen."

Jen is hiding her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to finish up her shift and clear up the desk at the same time.

Winnie flashes her a smile, glances at Spike who's still standing there looking at her. Her stomach flips and she has to clear her throat (it's just – it's not a wholly unpleasant feeling, is all). "I should change."

He catches up to her right outside the locker room, reaches out and stops her, fingers barely grazing her waist. "Hey."

"Hey."

They spend a solid minute just grinning at each other stupidly.

He lets out a breathe of air. "I uh. Really want to kiss you right now. But that's. Probably not a good idea."

She giggles, takes a step back. "Probably not."

"Kind of sucks."

"Maybe you can give me a ride home later," she suggests, biting down on her tongue to stop herself from grinning like an idiot.

He raises his eyebrows at her, this look like she's surprised him or something. "Maybe I can."

She leans closer. "If it makes a difference, I kind of want you to kiss me now too." She raises her eyebrow in challenge, backs into the locker room door and grins at him before it swings closed.

He does give her a ride home. They spend an hour making out in the car.

They only stop when Winnie's phone rings, Dahlia on the other line telling her that something came up and she has to change their clubbing plans (which – okay, Winnie's the slightest bit relieved, like who clubs on a Wednesday night, and also, glad because she'd totally forgotten all about it the second Spike leaned over with a smile on his face) and they'll talk tomorrow or something and she's barely hung up when Spike kisses her again. She drops her phone between the seat and the centre console, lets him reach across and touch her, her fingers suddenly nerveless. Kisses him back. Actually, Winnie thinks she could spend all night out here, just kissing him, having his fingers graze her neck and jaw.

She's a little surprised by how this feels new and not-new at the same time, how easy it suddenly is not having to tell herself that she is in no way affected by the way he smells, clean and fresh and like masculine, she doesn't even know.

It's just – potentially, she wouldn't complain if she was just allowed to do this forever.

When she finally gets inside, she falls onto her bed and just lies there, no concept of time, grins when she reads his text telling her to sleep well and marvels at how excitingeverything suddenly seems.

It's possible that Winnie wakes up the next morning _nervous_. To the point where she spills her coffee all over the floor and has to spend the first ten minutes she's awake cleaning it up.

She just keeps thinking about kissing him in her driveway, about how what she really wanted to do was like climb into his lap or something, drag him upstairs and feel his weight against her, how he smiled at her and she just thought, 'I always want him to look like that', like she is just suddenly so invested in his happiness and it's just a little bit terrifying, standing at the edge of this cliff.

She's standing up behind the desk when he comes in (and she's not proud of it but she totally drops the pen she's holding, has to fumble around for it, nearly knocks her coffee mug and a stack of binders right over and she's just not usually so clumsy).

He gives her that smile, the one that is apparently making her breath catch now. "Morning."

She swallows, tries to bite her lip against smiling so _hard_ and then just gives up. "Good morning."

"Hoping we get out on time tonight?" He's teasing, all gentle with her.

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Definitely hoping."

He ducks his head, still smiling and okay, possibly, she is going to throw herself across the desk and maul him, is all she's saying. "Me too." They just stand there smiling at each other. It's just – the expression on his face is-Winnie just doesn't know when she started being okay with seeing it directed at her, is all. "8 still good?"

She inhales a little. "Yeah. 8's still good."

He gives her this look, like maybe he was expecting her to have changed her mind or something, grins suddenly. "Okay. Well. I should…" Makes this motion towards the locker room.

She nods at him, thinks that there is _no way_ she's changing her mind, not now and even though it's been five minutes, it's looking like not ever. "Yeah. You should."

"Okay."

"Okay."

He doesn't move, is still smiling at her and she suddenly gets the urge to giggle, look away, play with her hair which – she resolutely doesn't do any of those things, she is not _that girl_ and she's not in high school, he is not the captain of the hockey team for Christ's sake.

"Spike, will you be joining us today?" Boss is grinning too and Winnie is pretty sure she blushes like a teenager when he looks at her. Wonders if he sees everything written all over her face in plain English.

"See you later," Spike says, eyes flicking to her mouth.

Winnie watches him go and then sinks into her chair, smiles at Boss who gives her this grin back that makes her think that he's like as excited as she is about tonight. Which – so silly, she needs to get a grip, the world is not revolving around her and dinner. With Spike.

Her shift finishes before his and for once, she doesn't hang around (it's entirely likely that she used to drag out her shifts simply so she could talk to him but if anyone ever asks she will deny the shit out of it), wants to shower and like find something to wear that isn't too short, too tight or too low (like, she wants to look, you know, good, not like she's trying to get into his pants. Which, okay, she _is_ but she doesn't need to put it out there for the whole world to know).

She's got Dahlia on speaker, rifling through her clothes as she fills her best friend in on the past forty-eight hours.

"What do you _mean_?"

Winnie rolls her eyes. "What part did you miss?"

"How about the whole thing?" Dahlia sounds like she's speaking with her jaw hanging open. "What the-I thought you said-"

"Yes well," Winnie says hastily. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Everyone makes…" Dahlia trails off and then lets out a loud squeal. "What in the hell convinced you? Oh my god, it's about fucking time."

Winnie makes a face, flicks through the hangers in her closet. "It's going to sound really stupid."

"I don't care. You've spent the last god knows how many weeks telling me that you don't look at this guy like that and you don't date cops and all of this crap and now you're telling me that _you_ asked _him_ out and you _made out in his car_ in your _driveway_ until someone _honked_ at you to move?"

"Okay, okay. I'm an idiot. I don't know. He's just…always there."

Dahlia snorts. "Really? That's what did you in?"

"I don't know. Maybe." It's not like she hasn't tried to figure it out, can't seem to find anything concrete, only that she finally put all her thoughts about him together, combined them all, saw that everything she wanted outweighed everything else and there was no other choice for her.

"So he's always there, he's hilarious apparently, he does just sickeningly cute things like take you skating and let you cry on him and? What in the fuck, Win, I've been saying all of this for weeks and weeks and you just kept telling me that it was never going to happen. 'Oh Dahl, he doesn't like me like that, he only asked me out once!' and 'Pshaw, please, I don't date cops', Winnie Camden, you are so full of shit!" Dahlia sounds gleeful.

"I know, I know. What do you want me to say? It just…I don't know."

"Okay okay, let's back it up. Seriously, I talked to you like two days ago and you told me this ridiculous story about the two of your flirting all over the SRU front desk over some note from his mom and literally today, you're telling me that you've been having secret make out sessions and you're going out _tonight_? What the!"

"I-we weren't _flirting_-"

"Oh please. That's all the two of you do! Nothing like reveling in your own singleness by watching your best friend and the guy she insists she doesn't want to date flirting it up right in front of you."

Winnie laughs. "It's really stupid. "

"Oh Jesus. What? Just tell me."

"I just…I looked at him and that was it. He was laughing."

"He was laughing," Dahlia repeats, somehow manages to make it sound even stupider out loud than it did in Winnie's head.

She sighs. "I told you it was stupid. I don't even…I don't know!" She pulls on black underwear and a black bra, knows that she is not putting out on a first date (she thinks, at least, anyway, more than likely) and that he won't end up seeing it but it makes her feel a little more confident, a little less like a kid with a crush.

"And what? The stars aligned? World shifted? Life was never the same again?"

Winnie doesn't say anything, feels like that's uncomfortably close to the truth.

"So. Perfect guy?"

"Oh shut up. I'm regretting ever telling you that part."

Dahlia lets out a delighted laugh. "So? You're telling me, in less than an hour, you're going on another one of your weird non-dates where you both do date-like things and hang out in a date-like manner with both of you wanting to date the other person. Except this time it's an actual date."

"I hate you. And yeah. I mean – that's the plan."

"Nervous?"

"I don't know." Yes. Yes, she's nervous. Not exactly about going out with him though, weirdly enough.

"You shouldn't be," Dahlia says decisively, like now that she's said it, Winnie will have no choice but to do what she says. "It's not really anything new."

Winnie sighs. "I don't know. I don't know! What the fuck am I doing?" she moans.

"Stop that. It'll be great." She pauses. "Plus, apparently making out is a thing you guys do now so just think, that's probably how your night will end. Stay away from the onions."

Her jaw drops, not a thing she had even considered and yes, now she _is _nervous about going out with him. "You are the actual fucking worst."

Dahlia ignores her. "Seriously though. It'll be fine. It's just the two of you doing what you've already been doing. There's no difference."

She rubs at her forehead. "Feels different."

"That's a good thing."

Winnie swallows hard.

"Win?"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't like last time. I like this guy."

"You've met him twice."

"What's your point? I'm a great judge of character. I hated that idiot Rob from the moment I met him."

She didn't actually, only starting hating him a year in when he got trashed and screamed at Winnie in front of too many people (which – still something she cringes about).

"Seriously. He's your perfect guy, what in the hell is the issue here?"

_All the ways I could fuck it up_ is what Winnie thinks, doesn't say.

"Stop it. Stop thinking. He's hung around all this time, honestly, I really think he's never leaving. Unless that freaks you out more. In which case, nevermind. Ugh. This is probably going to end up being one of those awesome first dates, right on par with all those urban myths. You know, guy with the hook at the car and all of that."

Winnie stopped trying to follow Dahlia's logic around the time they both turned eleven so she just says, "Sure, guy with the hook."

"Are you going to call me right after? You have to call me right after. Plus, if he suddenly gets a personality transplant and sucks, I can think up ways to ruin his life."

"Oh okay, scary."

"That's not something I don't already know. But thanks."

"Dahl-"

"It'll be fine. I promise. It'll be better than fine."

Winnie finds herself smiling at that. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Call me when you get home."

She hangs up the phone, spends an inordinate amount of time running her fingers through her hair. She knows she needs to put her makeup on, that 8 o'clock is creeping up way too quickly but also, she needs to open a window and take a few hundred deep breaths first.

It's just – there's suddenly this worry that it's going to be _wrong_ between them, everything feeling not like it's supposed to feel, not like it's _been_ feeling. Like maybe, everything that's come before right now has been a weird kind of fluke or a dream or something. Like maybe, they'll go out and he'll realize that she's all messed up in relationships or something. Not that they're in a relationship, like it is one dinner.

One. Dinner.


	10. Chapter 10

It's five to eight and her hands are shaking, lip gloss getting all over her chin. It's stupid to be nervous, it's just _Spike_.

But Winnie supposes that that's really the problem here - it's Spike. And somehow, things - dating, this, him – seem to matter more than they ever have with anyone else (not like she's the height of experience here but still. She's never gotten her lip gloss all over the place like this).

She looks at her face in the mirror and then rolls her eyes and wipes off all the gloss. He's seen her in blue polyester, with watery itchy eyes in the middle of summer, hung over and tired and she doesn't have to be on her best behaviour tonight because he already _knows_ her.

The buzzer goes off right at eight. She opens the door of her apartment, leaves it ajar, smoothes the skirt of the dress she's wearing and is just hunting through a cardboard box she's never unpacked for a coat that isn't what she usually wears when she hears, "Wow," behind her.

She glances at him, can't keep the grin off her face. "Hey you."

He's staring at her in a way he never has before, eyes a little wide and then he smiles at her, eyes on her face. "Wow. You look so..." he shakes his head at her and it's not like Winnie is insecure about her looks, doesn't usually care if a guy likes what he sees or not but-

Well, it's just flattering that he's speechless. (Maybe more than flattering.)

"You too," she says, doesn't think she's ever seen him in anything other than jeans before. It's just-it is not a bad look, is all she's saying. They just stand there looking at each other, both smiling and she finally turns back to the box regretfully. "Sorry, I'm just looking for a coat." She yanks it out, thinks it's probably not going to keep her that warm but she's going for a look here. A specific one and a puffy down jacket is just not going to cut it, not this time.

"Oh hang on, I got you-" He hands her flowers and it's really stupid for her it to make her smile the way she does. It's just that she knows fucking next to nothing about flowers, can barely tell the difference between a rose and a tulip but he knows her favourite colours and that's what he's just handed her - a bunch of her favourite colours. She finds a vase, fills it with water and surveys the bouquet with a smile still on her face before shrugging and just jamming it right in.

She can't actually remember the last time she got flowers, thinks maybe from her mom for her birthday when she turned eighteen.

She turns back to him, catches him smiling at her the way she's noticed him smiling ever since he asked her out (and maybe even before that). "What?"

He just shakes his head, doesn't look like he hates what he sees. "Just looking."

She blushes and then rolls her eyes. "Stop it. Or we won't be going anywhere."

He raises his eyebrows, looks way too interested and it's not like she would really need convincing to kick her heels off and spend the whole night on the couch with him (possibly showing him her underwear – which pretty much means they need to leave immediately).

"Where are we going?" she asks, cuts him off before he can take advantage of the fact that her filter is just non-existent.

"Dinner," he says, grinning at her cheekily, like he knows exactly what she's thinking. "You ready?"

They ride the elevator down in silence and she wonders if it would be way too incredibly forward to just turn and kiss him right on the-

"After you."

He opens the car door for her and it's like, okay, he's opened the door for her before and she knows how to open the door herself and everything but there's something about the way he looks at her as she gets in that makes her shiver. Makes her feel like possibly she should have just said yes a hundred years ago, that first time he asked her, leaning over the desk and clearing his throat and-

"Okay?"

She looks at him and he's smiling that reassuring smile, and suddenly, it's easy, he's Spike and she's Winnie and it's like how it always is. Only, every time he glances her way (he's changing _lanes,_ for god's sake, checking his blind spot) or every time his arm brushes against hers, she feels like her heart's in her throat. Only, it's in a good way and she's nervous and not-nervous all at the same time.

Mostly, it just feels like she's dressed up next to one of her most favourite people ever.

"Stay right there," he says when they've parked. "It's cold."

She watches him at the machine, thinks maybe he made the same kind of effort she did for tonight because yes, he's not in jeans but also, his hair is exactly the same as it always is.

He opens the car door for her with a flourish and she steps out, tries to remember what her mother always told her about getting out of a car in a skirt (which essentially amounts to swing, don't step). He takes her hand as soon as they start walking, squeezes gently so that by the time they get to the restaurant, she's grinning like a fool. He holds the door for her and it's small, all low-lighting and like, cloth napkins and if any other guy had brought her here, she'd think he was just trying to get into her pants.

She supposes the difference with this is that she kind of _wants_ him to want to get into her pants. Which - she needs to get a grip.

He just looks at her when they're seated and she catches his eye, asks him, "What?"

Spike shakes his head at her, says, "Just glad you wanted to come out with me."

"Me too," she says, hopes he can understand what she's trying to say, about how this feels and how she doesn't want to mess it up. It doesn't actually feel too differently to how things have felt between them the past little while. Except, now she knows how he kisses and she has to keep forcing herself not to think about it.

He studies the menu and her face and when she catches his gaze flicking lower, she just looks away, pretends to be looking around. Really? Really, she's thinking that she wore this dress for a reason and that's that she wants him to _look_. She doesn't even know. Possibly, she's lost her mind.

He glances at her when they order, asks if they can start with dessert. Their waiter looks confused but dessert gets brought out before anything else and Winnie grins at him.

"Trying to put me in a good mood?"

He snorts. "Please. I just know you better than you think."

And like, yes, apparently he does because he's just let them order dessert before their entrées (it's just – everyone else she's ever known has always given her these looks like 'control yourself, Winnie, it's just cake, it comes at the end of the meal'. It makes her think of that very first Team One picnic, how he'd made fun of her for twenty minutes for bypassing the actual food and heading straight for the dessert, how he'd saved her the very last nanaimo bar the year after).

"You should try this one," he says, looking at her carefully before he pushes his plate in her direction.

She can't meet his eyes when she tries his chocolate cake, feels a little self-conscious because of the way he's watching her. "Oh wow."

He laughs. "How's that one?"

She pulls his plate closer to her, pushes hers at him. "It's good. Tiramisu and bread so you can't go wrong. But this one – I never want it to end."

He rolls his eyes but he lets her finish his and she doesn't know what that means, thinks it can only be good.

It's by far the most effortless, least stressful date she's ever been on. They don't talk about work exactly, just the people, no cases and it's-it is great. Really great. He tells her this story about Ed and a cat that has her snorting into her glass, his eyes dancing at her across the table. And then this one about Wordy and purple sparkles and she tells him about this time Sid totally had food poisoning but came into work anyway and puked all over the desk.

He asks about her sister, if Melanie's still with that guy she likes to yell at, if her Mom's still going to those knitting circles up in St. Cats. She's floored that he remembers but then she thinks about him asking her out across her desk with no warning, wonders if maybe it was there and she just didn't see it. He tells her about how his childhood best friend is going to propose to his girlfriend after about fifteen years and calls him up every day chickening out and thinking that she'll say no. He tells her about how, when he was a rookie, Mac made him run the length of two football fields chasing after a subject and then just ended up pulling up in the cruiser right at the end and arresting the guy, how his Mom's English is totally shot now that she hardly ever speaks it and how rusty his own Italian is.

They talk about lots of stuff, to be honest, a whole hour about fishing randomly and he makes her laugh like he always does, makes her smile but every time he does, she feels this shiver run up her spine, eyes fixed on his mouth.

The first time she checks her watch, it's after one and they're the only people left in the restaurant. She kind of doesn't want to leave.

They argue over the bill for about five seconds before he just rolls his eyes at her and says, "How about you get it next time then? We'll go for ice cream."

And okay, like ice cream doesn't really compare but she's so taken aback by 'next time' (even though she really shouldn't be, not at this point and not with him) that she just shuts up. He grins triumphantly at her but mostly she's thinking that she wants him to kiss her like _right the fuck now_.

He reaches for her hand again on the way to the car and this time, she's the one who laces their fingers together, looks away from him, thinks that no one's hand touching hers should have this effect on her. He brushes a kiss across the back of her fingers before he opens the car door and she honest to god wants to simultaneously giggle and like, sigh dreamily. She thinks about the right way to get into a car in a skirt and then shrugs and bounces forward, catches his lips with hers (it's just – she's been wanting to all night and it'll just be a quick one).

Except then, that quick kiss turns into something else, him pressed right up against her, trapping her against him and the car, weight pressing into her ever so slightly, hands on either side of her body. She's got her fingers in his hair, thinks that no one has ever kissed her like this, this edge of desperation, how she almost can't breathe, like her ears are ringing, like possibly the world could end and she just doesn't give a-

She shivers against him as he pulls her closer, one hand on her waist, his thumb barely brushing against the curve of her breast, the other against the side of her neck and like, possibly, this is not the kind of kiss you have in public, not where people can see you. She doesn't care, thinks she's like a second away from untucking his shirt and sliding her hands onto his skin, see if he's as warm as he's making her feel-

"Get a room!"

She starts laughing right into his mouth and he leans his forehead against hers snickering.

"I guess we should go," he says.

But they stay like that for a second, breathing the same air, mouths still close and he presses a gentle kiss against her lips. She feels her eyes close dreamily.

He holds her hand as he's driving, smiles at her as she plays with the radio and puts on pop songs even though she figures he could probably live very happily never hearing Taylor Swift ever again (he just – he doesn't seem to _mind_). Her phone's been vibrating in her pocket since she put her coat back on and when they come to a red light, he raises her hand to his mouth and kisses her fingers. It makes her brain stall when she answers.

"HOW DID IT GO? Seriously, what the fuck, Win, you don't call a girl after the most important date of your life?"

She smiles, shakes her head even though Dahlia can't see her. "I'm just on my way home right now."

There's a long pause, they start driving again but she can feel him watching her, eyes glancing in her direction every few seconds. "Call me tomorrow," Dahlia says suddenly. "And I hope you recorded the whole thing because I'll need a play-by-play."

She laughs. "Yeah, okay."

"In fact. Scratch all that. I'm coming by your work tomorrow. When are you done? 7? We'll uh...go skating."

Winnie snickers, aware of the hand on hers, how warm she is, how much she really doesn't want this night to ever end. "Funny. I'll see you tomorrow."

She hangs up and Spike snickers suddenly. "Checking that I brought you back in one piece?"

It's more likely that Dahl was checking for something else (like maybe if Winnie had lost her nerve or her filter and ended up staying inside with Spike all night long, huddled into her couch under a blanket). "Who can tell with her," she says, grinning. "She wants to meet up tomorrow – pretty sure it'll be worse than any team debrief you've ever lived through."

He snickers, grins at her, quick and bright and she feels like she forgets to breathe for a second, wonders if it's just too forward to ask him to come up (and, like, it definitely is - she might have known him for years, might even consider him a fairly close friend but this dating thing? It's new. Really new. She's not ready to screw it up over her lack of timing).

He pulls up in front of her apartment, just looks at her and she's never been one for backseats but possibly, the way he's looking at her right now could convince her, is all she's saying. He leans over, watching her face the whole time until he kisses her.

Spike kisses the way he does everything else, like intensely but with this edge of fun and every time he touches her face or her hair, she thinks about all the things that his hands do with guns and electronics and bombs (which she swears has never been a _thing _for her but apparently, now is) and Winnie is seriously weighing the pros and cons of just climbing into his lap in the driveway (it seems that this is a thing he makes her consider every time he kisses her – possibly, she needs some more self-control).

He runs his thumb over her lips after he pulls away, smiles at her, this very open smile, like he feels how different this is too. She wants to say that she had a good time, a great time, that he is the best person she knows, that she just wants to make him _happy_, that he kisses her and it sets off these crazy feelings inside of her that she doesn't even know what to do with. She can't find any of those words.

He walks her up to the door, grins at her as he holds it open, leans against the doorframe to kiss her again (yeah, if he does that one more time, he's coming upstairs, that's it).

"This was...thank you." She hopes he's using all that SRU training to read the things she can't find the words for, hopes he can see it all over her face. She's just – she's not trying to hide it.

He rolls his eyes playfully at her. "See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

She watches him walk back to his car and he watches her until she gets into the elevator, a smile she can see all the way from the driver's window and as soon as the elevator doors close, she sags back against the wall a little. This has got to be what people mean about cloud nine and all that shit about walking on air, she muses as she lets herself in her front door, drops her purse and her coat and lies down on the couch smiling. It's got to be. She stares out the window at all the lights of Toronto and she's still.

Her phone rings as she's lying there, thinking about the fact that sometimes, your life can just suddenly be better before you even realize you want it to be. She reaches across, answers it without even looking at the screen.

"Hello?"

"Ok, so kind of creepy for me to be calling this soon...that's like one of those rules that girls have, right?"

Winnie snorts, grins so hard she wants to laugh. "Who cares? Rules are made to be broken and all of that?" God, who _is _she? Who _is_ she with these ridiculous clichés and being a rule breaker all of a sudden?

Spike laughs though, all delighted, vivid colours she sees on the inside of her eyelids. "Who cares," he agrees. "I just...um, didn't want this to be over yet?"

"Mind-reader." And wow, okay, filter on, please. She's about a second away from asking him to turn around, just come back and kiss her and spend the night and never ever leave. "I had a really...a good time," she says, thinks about what an understatement that is.

"So. If I ask if we're going to get to do it again, you're going to say...?"

"When," she says, grinning into the dim light of her apartment. "More than likely."

He laughs again. "Okay then. I like that answer."

They talk about nothing while he drives home and Winnie takes off all her makeup and gets into bed.

"Hey, Spike?" she says, yawning a little.

"Mm?"

"I wish I'd said yes before." It's possibly the most honest she's ever been with any man, ever.

There's a pause and she can hear him shutting and locking his front door. "Yeah, you probably should have," he says jokingly and then gets really serious, maybe more serious than she's ever heard him, up to and including that night where he wiped tears from her eyes. "Doesn't matter, Win. Lots of roads to the same place."

She feels a warmth in her stomach at that, like she's taken a sip of brandy and she leans back into her pillows, phone pressed to her ear. "I guess I should let you go."

He laughs, a soft sound that makes her curl her legs up and smile. "Not yet."

She knows she falls in and out of sleep, Spike's voice soothing when she gets those jolts of awake and tries to remember what they were talking about. She knows she has this flash of consciousness, this realization that she wants him here beside her and she thinks she says something like that to him because he gets quiet and then tells her that maybe they want the same things. They hang up eventually and she falls straight to sleep, dreams about something that makes her smile.


	11. Chapter 11

Winnie may or may not take a little extra time to curl her hair the next morning, which is dumb (it's not like she did anything special to it for the night before, is all) but she does, lets it fall on her shoulders and feels this tiny frisson of anticipation in the pit of her stomach.

Which like, so stupid. She needs to get a grip.

She's flipping through the binders, looking for a doc from a four month old case that she swears Team Three only wants because she doesn't know where it is, when someone leans over the desk and goes, "So? Last night?"

She raises an eyebrow at Ed. "Last night...?"

He rolls his eyes at her, a huge grin on his face and she knows it's at her expense (and well, he's been having a tough time, she knows that, she's not blind, he's found few things amusing lately and she can see the big picture here). "Well?"

"It was great," she says, thinks the way she's trying not to let her smile take over her whole face is probably giving the game away.

He snickers. "Yeah? Care to elaborate?"

She doesn't even know where she'd start even if she could get the words out, just shakes her head at him, has to press her lips together to keep from flat out beaming.

His eyes search her face and he looks like how Ed's supposed to look. "Well. You look happy. That's good. I'd hate to have to beat up someone on my own team."

She knows he's teasing but it makes her smile and she feels a rush of affection for Team One, how close they all are, how Sarge put family first (the point is, she totally plays favourites with the teams and she's totally fine with it).

"They still in work out?"

She nods. "Yep. It's been quiet so far."

"Let's hope it stays that way," he says with a grin, knocks on the top of her desk. "Okay, I'll see you later then." He pauses at the door to the gym. "Hey guys. We've got a training exercise against Team Three next week - guess what we're going to be doing today?" He shoots a grin at her, heads to the locker room amidst good-natured groans.

Team One's all geared up when she first sees Spike (and okay, fine, she sort of sees Dahlia's point about the uniforms, like they are not unattractive, even if she is used to seeing them). She's on the phone, Team Three's tech in her ear and she sighs, tells him that, "no, it's just not possible to do that with sealed records."

She hears Spike snicker and she flushes even though what is there to be turning red about? Nothing. That's what.

She hangs up, smiles up at him as he leans on the desk and says hi.

"Spike."

He glances behind him (possibly, the whole of Team One is hanging back a little, giving them both the kind of looks that are usually reserved for yawning puppies and very young, cute children), then leans over the desk and says, "You look really pretty today."

Yeah, she's totally blushing. "Thanks."

He returns her smile, eyes fixed on her face. "So."

She raises her eyebrows at him. "So."

It's entirely possible that she could just sit there looking at him all day.

Sarge clears his throat, is grinning much the same way they are. "We'll be in the shoot house. If you need us."

She gets this jolt like okay Winnie, stop forgetting you're at work and that other people are here too. "Okay."

Spike looks back twice, catches her looking at him both times. He winks at her and as soon as he leaves, she lets out a giggle, leans back in her chair and shakes her head at herself.

* * *

Dahlia shows up right at 7, so completely on time that Winnie's jaw drops open. "I may die of shock," she says with a snort.

"I know, me too," Dahlia agrees, all beaming smile, green eyes searching Winnie's face. "Whenever you're ready."

"I'm just waiting for my relief."

"No rush." She quirks her lips at her. "So. Where's _Spike_?"

"Locker room," she says with an eye roll. "And you can stop saying his name like that any time now."

"I'm just keeping it real."

"I don't know what that means," Winnie says, eyes on the notes she's currently transferring to different binders, "but don't feel like you need to explain."

"Ha ha."

"So. What are we doing tonight?"

"I told you. Going 'skating'," Dahlia says, a smirk on her face. "No no. I'm thinking bar food. We can indulge your affinity for cheese and nachos."

Winnie finishes what she's doing, slides the binders back into place, leans her chin on her hands. "We are not getting trashed," she warns. "I can't do it."

"Fine, be boring. No alcoholic tendencies tonight. I'm going to warn you though, I am _dying_. _Dying_. I can't believe I've had to wait this long to hear about everything."

Winnie laughs but also, she feels this rush of affection for her best friend, like she just got really lucky that very first ballet class.

Pete sprints in the door, runs right up to the desk. "Win, I'm sorry, running late," he wheezes.

She rolls her eyes up at him and smiles. "S'okay. You need more time?"

He unzips his jacket, shaking his head. "Got dressed on the way here. You don't want to know. I'm good whenever you're done."

She grins, squeezes past him. "Yeah, please don't tell me how, I don't think my brain could take it. I'll be five minutes, Dahl."

"Take your time," she says, looking around nosily. "I'll just…wander around. Amuse myself."

"Don't touch anything!" Winnie calls back, ducking into the locker room.

Leah and Jules give her matching grins when she walks in, glancing at each other before they start giggling.

"So. Have a good night last night?"

Winnie pulls her uniform shirt off, replaces it with a sweater and tries to keep the blush out of her cheeks. "Very good."

Leah and Jules look at each other before high-fiving and letting out catcalls. Winnie rolls her eyes laughing.

"The guys have been giving him a hard time all day," Jules confides.

Leah snorts. "Yeah. He didn't mind."

"What an understatement."

Winnie doesn't know what to say, cheeks red, wonders if the guys on Team One always give Spike a hard time after he's gone out with someone. Possibly, she's also thinking about kissing him, a lot, wondering if she can possibly get a five minute make-out before Dahlia realizes she's taking too long. She's never gotten dressed so fast in her life and when she glances at Jules, she kind of thinks the other woman knows exactly what's going through her head.

"Um, okay. Goodnight guys!"

She hears more giggling before the door to the locker room swings closed.

She comes to an abrupt stop just outside, Dahlia engrossed in conversation with Spike and Sam, all three of them laughing but as she slowly walks up to them, Winnie's eyes are fixed on one person.

"There she is," Sam says, eyes flicking to Spike.

"Hey."

She tries to keep the smile small, normal, doesn't want to look like _that girl_ but it's possible he's smiling the exact same way she's trying to avoid smiling and well, in any case, she fails. "Hey."

Dahlia clears her throat unnecessarily loudly. "Well. Your friends here were kind enough to entertain me until you were ready."

What's also unnecessary is the kind of inflection she puts on half those words, Winnie can't even.

Spike grins at her. "Well, Dahlia, I don't want to keep you two. But. I just need to borrow Winnie for a really quick second. She left something in my car."

As far as she knows, Winnie didn't leave anything in his car but then she sees the way his eyes flick towards hers and she bites down hard on the side of her mouth to keep from grinning and giving away the entire game.

Dahlia looks like she's about to burst from keeping her mouth closed (and Winnie can appreciate the effort it's costing Dahl to not open said mouth and embarrass the ever living shit out of her). Sam's looking at Spike incredulously.

"So. Um. Should we go?" she says.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Sam roll his eyes, a smirk on his face.

"We should," Spike nods, all 'move along, folks, nothing to see here'.

She's giggling by the time they get out to his car. He pulls her to him gently, one hand firmly on her jaw as he kisses her, bites her bottom lip a little. She fists her hands in his coat collar, kisses him back just as hard. Forgets entirely about Dahlia, forgets they're still in the parking lot at work.

"You should go," he exhales against her mouth, hands on her ribcage inside her coat.

"Where?" Leans up to kiss him some more.

He laughs, makes her laugh too, kisses her again before he says, "Tomorrow? Ice cream? Oh, sorry, not ice cream, that fake stuff you like that you can put all those toppings on."

She glares at him, tries to keep the smile off her face. "Okay. Tomorrow."

He kisses her one more time (or possibly two) before she hears footsteps behind them and they pull apart. She leans casually against his car door, tries not to look like she's just spent the last ten minutes doing what she was doing.

"Oh _there _you are," Dahlia's voice is filled with suppressed mirth, Sam and Jules walking next to her, all three wearing identically entertained looks on their faces.

Winnie clears her throat. "Yes. At the car. Where we said we'd be. Amazing how things work out sometimes, isn't it?"

Dahlia looks at her slyly, gives Spike the exact same look. He doesn't shuffle his feet the way Winnie does though, doesn't blush, just raises his eyebrows. Possibly, Winnie could learn a thing or two from him about how not to look guilty. "So. What did you have to get?"

Winnie has no earthly idea what she's talking about, just looks at her blankly.

Dahlia snickers like the clouds have just opened up and deposited gold coins.

Sam must take pity on her because he says, "Whatever it is you forgot in Spike's car."

It still takes Winnie a second and she knows her cheeks are red. Jules is hiding her grin in her scarf. "Um. My um. My-" She looks at Spike pleadingly but he just shoots her an amused look and doesn't say a word. "Socks," is what pops out of her mouth.

"Socks," Dahlia repeats.

"Yep. Socks."

Even Sam looks like he's grinning now and Winnie thinks that this would probably be the ideal time to leave. "Um. Thanks. For returning my socks," she says to Spike, mutters, "I'll get you for that," as she moves past him. He shrugs, grinning, purposely stepping into her way so that her arm brushes against his chest which pretty much makes her completely incoherent, nevermind what they were doing five minutes ago.

"See you tomorrow."

She knows she says something back, something totally unintelligible, knows she says something along the same lines to Sam and Jules and then gets the hell out of there.

Dahlia contains herself until they've ordered and Winnie's asked for extra cheese on her nachos. Winnie looks at her face and sighs. "Why don't you just say it and get it over with?"

"I TOLD YOU SO."

"Hm. Feel better?"

"Yeah, kind of." She smirks. "Also - you had to get something from his car? Really? Come on. I know I taught you better than that."

Winnie glares at her.

Dahlia shrugs it off, still smirking. "So? Tell me! How was it?"

"It was...great."

"It was great?" She looks unimpressed. "And?"

"And nothing. We went to dinner-"

"Did you sleep with him?"

"What? No!"

"Come on, you can tell me. I won't judge," she says wheedlingly.

Winnie rolls her eyes. "Believe me, I'm more than aware you won't judge. But that didn't happen. It was totally...not at all like that."

"Yeah. That's what you said about dating him. Huh, how'd that one work out again?"

"We've gone out _once_."

She looks at her, mouth slightly open. "And?"

"I don't know. Isn't there like a time-frame for that? Like three dates? Or is it four?" Winnie sighs. "Fuck, I have no idea what I'm doing."

Dahlia laughs, sits back looking satisfied. "Bet you wish you'd spent a lot more time reading Cosmo now, don't you?"

"I hate you."

Dahlia laughs again, looks supremely unconcerned. "I mean. Who really waits for three dates? And four? That's just silly."

Winnie glares at her. "You're not helping."

"I think you should do whatever feels right," Dahlia cackles. "I think that's the going rule these days."

"Oh okay, so that's useless."

"Follow your instincts?"

Winnie drops her face into her hands. "I'm out of practice. This is just...I don't know. Dating? It's just-"

"You're out of practice with sex too. Don't worry. I'm sure it'll all come back to you."

"Why am I even friends with you?"

"Because. I'm _awesome_." She smiles at their waiter, waits for him to put down their food before leaning over and snagging one of Winnie's nachos. "Personally, I don't know what you're even waiting for. Just do it. Think Nike."

Winnie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that's really helpful. And, like I said before. We've been out _once_."

"And I still don't see your point. It didn't really look like that was stopping either one of you."

"I hate you."

"So you keep saying." She smiles suddenly. "You look happy."

She flushes. "I am. He's...he's-"

"Yes, I know, he's great." Dahlia rolls her eyes but she looks like she's a second from bouncing right out of her seat. "You two are just...like so cuuu-"

"Don't say it," Winnie warns her. "That word is for petting zoos and daycares."

"Ruin my fun, why don't you."

Winnie sighs, fiddles with some melted cheese. "It's too soon, isn't it? Like one date. That's so-"

"Not really. I mean, what do you expect, right? Like all that stuff you usually find out on dates you probably just skipped right over."

"Like what?"

Dahlia sighs heavily as if the cares of the world are about to be solved by the next words out of her mouth. "Like, is he a dog person, what he does for a living, does he have any siblings, what kind of music he listens to - like did you guys talk about any of _that_ stuff? Of course not. Because you already know all the answers. It's not like you could just sit down at dinner and be all like 'so! Tell me where you got your nickname'."

Winnie doesn't really see the point she's trying to make. "Okay?"

"So. I'm just saying. You guys are on a totally different time frame here. It's like a completely different trajectory. This isn't like you're dating to find out if you can even stand spending a whole evening with him."

"And?"

"And. Dating someone who's already your friend? Not like dating someone you don't know. There's way more involved."

"Like what?" Winnie suddenly feels like she's way _way_ out of her depth, like she's at the top of a black diamond and doesn't know how to ski.

"Like you're already invested, even though you've only gone out once. I mean, regular people go out once and if you don't like the person, who gives a shit? Ditch them and move on. But you guys…it's just different."

Winnie clears her throat, stuffs a nacho in her mouth to avoid saying anything.

"Don't freak out," Dahlia warns. "I'm just telling you how it is. Nothing's different than it was ten minutes ago."

"Except you've just gone on and on telling me how _serious_ this is," Winnie mutters mutinously. "What am I supposed to do with all of that?"

"Not screw it up?"

"Yeah. Cause I'm a real expert on that."

Dahlia takes a sip of her drink, looks at her carefully. "What happened with Rob? Not your fault. I just...you guys aren't going to discuss your past relationships? Kill counts?"

"_You_ are horrifying," Winnie tells her. "Kill counts? What is this, frosh week?"

"You totally want to know, don't you? You should ask him. Ask him how many times he's used his badge to get laid. Or pointed out that he holds a sniper rifle on a daily basis – see how many numbers that's gotten him."

"Dahlia!"

"I bet he has. I would, if I were a guy and part of an elite tactical unit."

"And you're definitely the pinnacle of moral behaviour right here."

Dahlia laughs. "Don't we all know it." She looks at her seriously. "What have you told him? About Rob?"

Winnie stares at her in horrified shock. "Nothing. God, that'd make for a great conversation. No thanks."

"You're not going to tell him anything? He's not stupid, he's going to want to know about the rule."

"What rule?" Sometimes, Dahlia switches topics so fast that Winnie gets a little lost.

Dahlia rolls her eyes like she can't believe someone so stupid is sitting across from her. "The no dating cops rule. Jesus, you've got a short memory."

Winnie rolls her eyes back. "It's still a rule. He's just…it's just…he's different."

Dahlia looks at her and then shakes her head like it's possible Winnie really is the stupidest person she's ever had to speak to.

"He's just...it's not like if it doesn't work out, I'm going to-even this is…it's different." She almost rolls her eyes at herself that time – yes, it's all different but she can't exactly put her finger on _why _(or maybe she can and it's just too soon to face the answer).

"Except things are totally going to work out."

Winnie just shakes her head. "I don't want to get ahead of myself."

"That much," Dahlia says with another eye roll, "is evident." She chews thoughtfully. "So what's your word? Think he'll be good in the sack?"

"Can you not?" Winnie says, making a face and flicking the corner of a chip at her.

Dahlia giggles madly for a moment. "Good kisser?"

Winnie sighs patiently. "Like I said. It's great."

"Bet you're wishing you'd taken my advice before."

"Maybe," Winnie says musingly. "Honestly. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"That's really fucking depressing." Dahlia picks at her food and then looks at her. "You realize that you're not the only person in the world that had a bad relationship end? Don't bring all of that into your new one. He doesn't deserve it."

* * *

"Did I really just have to find out about who you're sleeping with from _Dahlia_, of all people?"

Winnie stares at her alarm clock bleary-eyed, thinks that she should have another hour of sleep before it goes off.

"Hello! Winnie!"

She mumbles something into her phone, tries to sit up.

"I mean, _seriously_, I have to hear about this from your _friend_?"

"Mel?"

Mel lets out a long sigh.

"Why are you calling me at four in the morning?"

"To talk about the fact that you're dating someone and you didn't tell me!"

Winnie stares into the darkness above her bed before she lets out a laugh. "Are you kidding me? You woke me up to ask me about-"

"Yes! Obviously! I can't believe you didn't tell me yourself!

She opens and closes her mouth for a second. "We've been out _once_. One time! We haven't even-"

"So? This is _Spike_ not some random you met at the bus stop. Which would be ew."

Winnie rolls her eyes.

"So? How did it go?"

"Our one and only date? It was great. We went to dinner. He held my hand. He brought me flowers. And he kissed me goodnight."

"Sounds like he's the perfect guy."

"Oh shut up, Melanie. I didn't even _say _that, you got there all on your own."

Mel snorts with laughter. "You didn't _have_ to say it. Win. Anyhow. That's all I called to talk about."

"You called and woke me up at four in the morning to tell me you already knew I'd gone out once with someone?"

"Not just someone. But yes. Essentially."

"Goodbye Mel, I'll call you back at an hour that doesn't make me want to shrivel up and die."

Mel lets out a whoop of laughter. "You do that. I want to hear all about it. Love you!"

Winnie grunts out something and hangs up but she's grinning madly when she snuggles back down into her blankets.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: It was suggested that I move the M out of this T=rated story and I've taken that suggestion to heart - so the ending scene you can now find in the Outtakes story. Because, you know. These two adults are going to have them a little fun and it's not the chaste kind.

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* * *

Spike looks mildly horrified by several things - the bright colours and the mascot being the most obvious. Winnie snickers, takes a big spoonful of her yogurt.

"I would like to point out," he says, stabbing at the brownie pieces he has in his bowl, even as he smiles at her, "that I agreed to this place purely because you like it."

She laughs. "What, you don't like the little cartoons?"

He just shakes his head like he can't believe he's even set foot inside, let alone is sitting in the corner with a bowl in front of him hand and a brightly-coloured plastic spoon in his right hand.

She takes pity on him. "Do you want to do something more fun than this place afterwards?" she asks patiently.

He mock-glares at her and then grins. "Sure I do. Ancient Aliens is on."

"You want to watch Ancient Aliens?"

"Yes."

She raises her eyebrow at him as she chews on a gummibear. "You are such a nerd."

He snorts. "So are you. You just hide it better."

It makes her laugh and he reaches for her hand on the walk back to the car, like it's a _thing_ they do. She's not complaining.

He clears his throat when he pulls into his parking space and she glances at him from where she's still flipping through the songs on his iPod. "Um. Just to be clear. I'm not like. Propositioning you."

"Why not?" He starts stuttering out a response and she snickers. "I'm kidding. And yes. I know."

He shakes his head at her, rolls his eyes but also, he places a very chaste kiss next to her mouth as she gets out of the car.

She's never actually been inside his new place, stopped by briefly with Lew and Jules when he lived with his parents but like, she saw the kitchen for two and a half seconds, she didn't _hang out_ there.

It's incredibly, compulsively neat (she thinks guiltily about her small dining table, completely covered in textbooks and paper and how she's always losing pens and the fact that the other side of her bed is perpetually covered in clothes) and she leans down to line her shoes up on the mat because it seems like something he does.

He gives her an exasperated look when she straightens up. She snorts. "I don't know! Why is it so clean?"

He ignores her question. "Do you want me to hang up your coat?"

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Is that a thing you do?"

"Is it not a thing _you_ do? I thought that was just because you don't have a closet!"

They both stand there for a few seconds before they start laughing and she wriggles out of her coat and very pointedly hangs it over the railing. He raises his eyes to the ceiling and then tugs her into the living room.

His couch is enormous (and, she thinks privately, probably won't give a person back trouble if they sleep on it - not that they're going to sleep on it. Or do anything inappropriate on it whatsoever at all) and she stretches as she sinks onto it, takes a few seconds to get herself settled. He's still standing there watching her, this look on his face like he likes the way she looks on his couch or something.

"Want anything?"

She shakes her head and he disappears into the kitchen. She can hear him turning on the water and she has this brief thought for how weird this _should_ be but then reaches over and pulls the blanket over her legs (it's perfectly folded and honestly, who knew he was such a freak? The thought kind of makes her want to jump him. Which just goes to show, everything is all skewed in her head).

"Coffee at 9:30 at night?" She raises an eyebrow at him, even as he takes a sip.

He makes a face. "It's decaf."

"Ew." She wrinkles her nose at him, smiles when he mimics her face.

He settles in beside her, mug on the coffee table and she leans against him. He slides his arm out from between them, settles it around and pulls her close to him, lets her rest her head against his shoulder. It's comfortable and like pleasant and a whole host of other things Winnie thinks of, like s'mores and seat warmers on cold days. He presses a kiss to her hair and it's entirely possible that her insides have turned to goo.

Which is why when, two hours later, they're making out feverishly in the kitchen and she's lost half her clothing, she's understandably, you know, a little surprised. But it's like she's being scorched right out of her skin and his hands are running up and down her waist, thumbs brushing just below her underwire and it's incredibly difficult to think straight when he's biting at her collar bones the way he is (it's just – it's not a wholly unpleasant feeling. At all).

Her fingers are fumbling with his belt, her brain nowhere near available for use and it's probably a good thing he's there, you know, for more than one reason, because he catches her hands, traps them at her sides and pulls away slightly, both of them breathing hard like they've been sprinting. She just feels this overwhelming _want_ when she looks at him and seriously, what in the hell has gotten into her?

"Uh. We should-"

"Right." Second date, second date, second date, is what she chants in her head, tries to remember all that stuff her mother used to say about cows and buying milk for free. Or was it buying the cow for free? How do you even buy something if it's free?

He lays one hand on the side of her face, smiles and then kisses her gently.

Possibly, she needs a refresher course on how to stop kissing someone because thirty seconds later, they're right back at that point and she's pretty sure that while she's a bit rusty on the logistics of sex up against a wall, she thinks they can probably figure it out.

Also, she can't actually remember why this isn't a great idea, like the best anyone's ever had. He's just so _warm_, fingers callused and maybe if his hands weren't so steady, she'd be able to think this through properly.

As it is, the only reason she pauses is because his phone vibrates against her hip and makes her jump. He pulls away, gives her this knowing look.

"Going to answer that?" Her voice sounds like she's been screaming along to the words at a rock concert.

"Um." He looks torn, eyes fixed on her bra which is only barely still covering her.

She bites down on her top lip, giggling helplessly when he ignores it and reaches for her again.

"Okay, seriously, what the fu-" It's vibrating again and she's wound so tightly that she starts laughing, his head dropping onto her shoulder in defeat.

"Maybe it's important," she suggests.

He makes a face, pulls it out of his pocket and glares at the screen. "It's not. What?" he answers, eyes still fixed on hers even though he's backed up a step.

She can hear Sam on the other line, has to cover her mouth with both hands so he doesn't hear her laughing.

"What? I don't know. Why are you asking me?"

Winnie very clearly hears a withering, "Because you're the communications expert?"

Spike is shaking his head, rolling his eyes at her. "Yeah but I don't work for Rogers. Call them. I have to go." He hangs up, sighs. "Sorry."

She's trying her best to keep a straight face. "Like a really cold bucket of water."

"Yeah, no kidding."

She needs him to put on a shirt, let her focus because really, all she's thinking about is that his kitchen counter is clear and probably just around the right height. She steps around him, leaving a wide border between them and reaches for her own shirt.

He's looking at her with this amused expression on his face like he knows _exactly_ what she's thinking, crosses his arms and leans back against the wall and okay, she feels like she's a _mess_, like her lips are swollen and her hair's a disaster and he just looks like he's hanging out. Which. Not fair. Also, it makes her want to mess him up too. So – not helping.

She quirks her eyebrow at him, needs to change the subject immediately, roots around for something to say and then thinks about the Christmas party at Ed's from a few years ago before she says, "Okay, I've gotta ask."

"Yeah?"

"Where'd you hide your NES? And don't pretend you threw it out, I know you better than that."

He stares at her for a second before he collapses into laughter, giving her this look that she can only describe as like, _fond_, which probably means she needs to buy herself a thesaurus because really. It makes her think of her mother trying to explain love and sex and Winnie being so horrified that all she'd heard was, "Like those people next door. Anyone can see that they're _fond_ of each other," and seriously, why is she thinking about this? "Why, you wanna play?"

She throws his shirt at him, rolling her eyes when he catches it and makes no move to put it on. But she's smiling. "What, you got something better to do?"

He steps forward, invades her space. Her breath catches and she stares up at him, brain completely turning to mush. "You're on."

* * *

"Are you nervous?"

"What? No!" Okay, she's a _little_ nervous, like this is the first time they've hung out with Team One since they started seeing each other. Spike gives her a sideways glance, this grin on his face like he's making fun of her and she huffs. "A little?"

He stops walking, just looks at her and like, she's glancing around because they're standing in the middle of a cross walk and the little man on the other side is starting to blink. "We don't have to do this. We can just go do something else."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Don't be ridiculous, that's not going to help. They're just going to think we couldn't keep our hands off each other."

He laughs, eyes widening at her a little. "Oh really?"

She rolls her eyes again, nevermind that they've hardly even _done_ anything. "Like you don't know that. You'll be the one getting high-fived in the locker room."

He bursts out laughing. "Yeah. Boss is big on those." He shakes his head at her. "You don't have to be nervous. This is-they're-it's just like family. I swear."

She forces a smile that she's pretty sure he sees right through, lets him slide his arm around her and start walking again. She can't even put her finger on what she's nervous _about, _like she sees these people every day at work and they all _know_, it's not like this is a _secret_. Maybe it's because she knows they're all kind of giving him a hard time (she's just - she's overheard things, is all and even Pete has been all 'So. Scarlatti.' with this annoying little smirk and she keeps seeing people looking at her and it's not like she thinks it really _matters_ or anything, what they all think. She doesn't even know. Probably, she's just insane).

She almost drops his hand when they get to the table and he gives her this look that makes her stop. She slides into a chair, Spike into the one beside her and she knows her face is flaming (everyone has just gone quiet and she zeroes in on Ed's expression, of all things, this look like he wants to make a really bad joke and it's taking everything he has not to) and she clears her throat awkwardly. She can see Spike out of the corner of her eye, this look like he's equal parts amused and something else that she can't figure out.

Jules gives her this reassuring smile and Winnie feels a little bit less nervous when Spike's hand lands on her knee and he starts talking to Ed.

Leah is positively grinning, whole face soft and Winnie finds herself smiling too. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

"Good things happening to good people," she answers, something about it stirring in Winnie's memory and she suddenly wonders just what the Team knew about Spike asking her out. Or maybe they just put it together. She suddenly wonders if they can see all those things she feels about him all over her face or like in her body language or something. She drains her first drink way too fast, thinks she's going to be really drunk if she keeps going that way.

She falls into conversation with Sam, his smile all friendly, talk about the Marlies and how you can't beat the ticket prices and possibly, she was stupid to be nervous in the first place because no one says anything about it. It's the same as it always is. Only, then Spike gets up to go to the bathroom, brushes his fingers against her shoulder and like, okay, so not a thing, it is _not_ a _thing_ but everyone's eyes kind of swivel towards them and Boss has this ridiculous smile on his face that makes Winnie think about gossiping old women. She forces herself not to look down (it's not like she has anything to be _embarrassed_ about here, not at all, they haven't done anything wrong and actually, it's pretty great to be dating Spike so there is absolutely no reason _at all_ for her to be blushing. None).

Actually, since she's not looking down, she can see how everyone else looks sort of pleased too and she thinks it's got to be because of Spike, how easy it is to just love him.

Not like _love _him, she is certainly not _in love_ with him because it's been five minutes and they've literally been out twice. Twice. And they've gone for coffee twice. Are those dates? Do those even count? Whatever. In any case, it's way too soon to be thinking about anything so serious. The point is - Team One cares a great deal about their own. That is the point she's making.

Towards the end of the night, Jules slides into the seat next to Winnie, looks at her seriously. "You okay?"

Winnie raises her eyebrows at her. "Yes. Why? You?"

Jules laughs. "I just know what it's like to feel like everyone's looking at you. I promise they're not. It's just - it's been a while since we've seen either one of you this happy. It's a good thing."

Winnie feels a smile spread across her face at how earnest the other woman is. "Okay."

* * *

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AN: So that first little Outtake takes place right here.

Also, want to come tweet with me? myriveroad. Come say hi. It'll be fun.


	13. Chapter 13

For two and a half weeks, Spike drives her home after work, they make out in his car and then he walks her to the door. Their days off, they hang out, they make out in his car and then he walks her to the door. Winnie might be out of practice but she's pretty sure this PG-13 relationship they've got going on here is not exactly working out for either one of them (okay, _mostly_ PG-13. That afternoon when they fooled around on her couch-from-hell notwithstanding. Plus, she thinks it might have been an anomaly, there's been zero opportunity to recreate any part of it so that she can compare them side by side). It's certainly not working for her, she's actually starting to wonder if it's possible to die from not getting off when your body is telling you it wants to get off (also, taking matters into her own hands is doing _nothing_).

She wonders what the hell it's all about until she catches a glimpse of his face one morning before work out. He looks tired and a little stressed out and it suddenly occurs to her that maybe he's waiting for her to freak out, all that crap about not dating cops, turning him down, letting him in slowly, no pressure on her at all.

Then she wonders how she's supposed to tell him that she wants this, wants him, that she may have started off by turning him down but now-well everything's different now.

It's just-she does. She wants everything, all of it, good and bad, and if she thinks about it, she feels like panicking but if she doesn't-

If she doesn't, it just feels _normal_.

Dahlia's been calling her all day in between her classes to tell her how annoyed she is at this guy she went out with twice and who now appears to be batting for the other team, cajoles Winnie into stopping by after shift.

Spike grins at her, pausing at her desk, still in his gear when she gets off the phone with Dahlia for the fifth time, asks her what she's doing later and she sighs. "Going over to Dahlia's for a bit. What about you?"

"Sam and Raf want to get dinner. Was going to see if you wanted to come." He leans over, pulls a piece of fluff from her scarf out of her hair.

She shivers, stares up at him, wonders how in the hell it's possible to want someone this badly and not just spontaneously combust. "Yeah, sorry. Boys only?" she asks with a grin.

"I think that depends on Jules," he says with a snort, gives her this smile that makes her breath catch for a second. "I'd rather hang out with you."

She knows he's kidding but between the uniform and the smile and the rest of it, it's possible that what she actually wants to do is drag him into the briefing room and close the door, figure out how all that gear actually gets put together.

"So what kind of trouble are you going to get Dahlia into?"

Winnie snorts. "Please. I'm pretty sure we'll be staying in with a bottle of tequila."

"Sounds fun," he says, flashes her that smile and yeah okay, that overpowering feeling of want is starting to push right through her 'be professional at work' thing. "So I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

She quirks her lips at him. "Maybe I can stop by tonight. After. Say hi."

He stops dead, all trace of joking disappearing from his face (and inside, she kind of cheers a little because okay, she can deduce that maybe he does want her the way she wants him. Then she feels like slamming her forehead down onto her keyboard because okay, so if that's the issue, now what?). "I-uh. If you want."

Which. Not exactly an enthusiastic response. But she also sees how his eyes flash towards hers for a second, sees all the heat in them and she's just pretty sure, is all. "We'll see."

He stands there looking at her for a few minutes longer and she gazes right back at him, props her chin up on her hand and thinks she'd be pretty content to just sit there all night and look at him, take in that smile and his eyes (and possibly all that gear too which is just like, beyond ridiculous because how can she have seen all of it all the time, every day and never realized that it was a _thing_).

"Spike, what the-why aren't you dressed?"

Spike turns around, one eyebrow raised. "I didn't realize we were under a time constraint, Braddock."

"Well we are – seriously, what have you been doing?"

Winnie's snickering, just looks at him. "Yeah Spike. What have you been doing?"

"Traitor," he mutters out of the side of his mouth. "Um. Maybe see you later?" He's got this look on his face that's kind of hopeful but kind of like he's trying to tell himself to act like a wet mop (like he's gearing up to be disappointed or something. She uh - she doesn't want to disappoint him).

"See you later," she promises, watches him walk over to Sam, telling him he's only going to be five minutes and honestly, what's Sam's rush anyway?

Sam rolls his eyes at her, shakes his head at Spike, tells him he's hopeless and to hurry up.

Winnie hides her snicker, shakes her head at Sam in mock-commiseration.

* * *

Winnie hides a yawn. Dahlia has been ranting and raving all night about men and how stupid they are and how, in fact, all people are stupid and if the Mayans are right and the world's going to end, it can only be a good thing because people are too stupid to live, and she's also getting progressively more drunk as the hours pass.

"I mean, seriously, don't lead a girl on if it's never going to happen!"

Winnie stares at her, head propped up on her hand and rolls her eyes. "Where do you find these people?"

"Online. Which. May be the problem. Whatever, we don't all have guys in kevlar walking around being all 'Hey, wanna date me?'" She snorts. "How do normal people meet other normal people?"

"Yeah well," she says gloomily, thinking about being constantly on edge and not really knowing what he's thinking and that even if she does end up going over to his place tonight, they'll probably just end up making out in his car (not that she's bitter). "Who knows."

"Why are you upset? Ugh, Win, what did you do?"

Winnie makes a face at her. "Thanks. I'm not upset but good to know you're on my side."

"Of course I'm on your side. Just. What did you do?" Dahlia pours herself another drink, raises an eyebrow at her.

"Nothing! That's the problem."

Dahlia looks at her and then lets out a snort, followed by a bout of hysterical laughter. "Are you _serious_?" she chokes out. "That's the problem? Wow. Well, just take your clothes off, he'll get the hint." She salutes her with her shot glass.

Winnie rolls her eyes. "I can't just-what if he asks me what the hell I'm doing?"

"Oh, that's a good one."

"Dahl-"

Dahlia leans over, pushes her empty glass in Winnie's direction and tops it up, spilling half the bottle on the table and on Winnie in the process. "Liquid courage. And then just go over there and get him naked!"

"How do I-"

"He's a _guy_, what does it even matter? You could just _show up_. Problem solved."

Winnie rolls her eyes, picks her elbow out of the puddle of tequila and tries to stop it from dripping right onto her jeans. "Thanks Dahlia, that's really helpful."

But fifteen minutes later, she's two shots in and has decided that Dahlia is Onto Something.

Spike answers the door in sweats that are riding way too low on his hips (and so what if all she zeros in on is the waistband of his underwear? She's _human _here), and an old SRU t-shirt, the kind they don't even make anymore and like, since she knows exactly what's underneath those clothes (not all at one time or anything but she's got an imagination, is pretty sure she's got things mostly figured out), she is pretty much ready to jump him. But he just kisses her chastely on the lips and leads her into the kitchen. "You want some coffee?"

And like, okay, she knows she smells like a brewery but she only had the two shots and the walk over combined with the cold pretty much killed any kind of buzz she had going so yeah, coffee's really not going to cut it. She's nervous as all shit but she also feels like she made a commitment before she rang the bell and she is going to honour it, dammit.

"Dahlia spilled her drink on my shirt," she says with a raised eyebrow. "Twice." She's pretty proud of how steady her voice sounds. Totally belies the way her heart is hammering away in her chest.

He snickers. "Yeah? Why?"

"Dunno. But. I should probably-" She whips it over her head and hangs it carefully on the back of one of his kitchen chairs.

That snicker? Totally gone. He's just staring and _that_, she can work with (it's possible that Dahlia was right. Unlikely but possible. What's also possible is the way his gaze on her is kind of making her feel like she's found her inner-Adriana Lima).

"Also. She spilled her drink on my jeans too. Talk about a sloppy drunk." She unbuttons them, just looking at him in challenge and he doesn't move, doesn't even breathe which she figures has to be a good sign so she peels her jeans off and hangs those over the back of the chair too, glances down at herself, wonders how she can point out the obvious without _being_ obvious. Thinks she can't. "Oh look, I match."

He lets out a low laugh, shakes his head. "Are you done with your little striptease?"

Yeah. She's not letting him win this one, crosses her arms defiantly. "I can keep going. Unless you want to-"

He's across the room in three seconds, hands everywhere and when he tugs on her hair, possibly, she gets even more into it, which is weird and different because she's never really been into that before.

They don't make it any further than the kitchen table and afterwards, when she reflects on the whole evening, she thinks that might be the crowning moment (other than, you know, the obvious – twice). It's fun, is what she starts to remember somewhere between taking off her shirt and raising her eyebrows at Spike.

Or maybe it's just fun with him.

It's not how she remembers it being, at any rate, like they laugh a little, especially when she over-enthusiastically gets caught up in her bra and he has to help her untangle herself. Also, he kisses her harder than he ever has and all she can think about is that he's been holding back and she doesn't want him to hold back _anything_ anymore. And he kind of bites at her, same as he does when they're making out in his car and it's just kind of a thing she is really learning to enjoy, is all.

(Also, it's way more intense than she remembers sex being, like she can see what people mean about stars and all of that, not that she's going to quote that to anyone, wonders if that's what it's like with someone from SRU, who listens to all the things you don't say or if it's just him.

It's just, he may have her body figured out better than she does, which is not a thing she says lightly.)

He drops his head onto her shoulder afterwards, lets out this huff of disbelief. "I-"

She pushes herself up on her elbows, ignores the discomfort in her back (the table is just really hard and it's not exactly cozy lying on top of it), smiles up at him. "Yeah? Go on."

"Yeah, I don't-uh." He shakes his head at her. "I don't suppose you're going to believe me if I tell you I've never actually had sex on a table before?"

"Not buying it. You're sweet though."

He rolls his eyes at her, hauls himself up and stands there looking at her for a second before he reaches down and helps her to her feet, hands lingering at her hips. "Um." He clears his throat. "I-uh." He clears it again.

"Oh my god, are you about to, like, apologize to me?" She hurriedly pulls her face straight, tells herself not to laugh.

"Yeah well. Not exactly how I'd envisioned it."

She shrugs at him, gives into the grin that's building. "What, rose petals and jazz? That's so…has anyone ever told you you can be a huge girl?" She kind of wants to throw herself at him right now, wrap him up in the blankets with her under them too, kiss him until she forgets her own name.

"It's been mentioned," he says dryly, flashes her a smile that makes her feel all warm.

As far as romance goes, the conversation leaves a lot to be desired but Winnie feels pretty great about this entire evening, has no qualms whatsoever about heading off to the bathroom and getting herself cleaned up before trying to find her clothes (she is all _relaxed_, is all she's saying).

She finds her underwear and jeans pretty quickly, pulls them on, but the rest of her clothes are totally eluding her. She's hunting around behind the coffee maker, glances behind her, Spike looking like he just hopped in and out of the shower, hair all damp, leaning against the doorframe just watching her and she grins at him. "Just looking for my bra."

He shakes his head at her like she's just totally overwhelming, like he doesn't even know what to do with her (not a look she hates seeing on his face). "I uh. Here." Hands her one of his t-shirts and she is totally in trouble here because it smells just like him and he's smiling at her and like, it's stupid for this to be what causes her to drop all the joking, light-hearted vibes she had going on a second ago but she pulls it over her head and smiles up at him, thinks she probably looks a little sheepish.

"Thanks."

He shakes his head at her, gives her this look like he's not having a bad evening at all and then tangles his fingers in her hair, pulls her face close to brush a kiss on the tip of her nose before he kisses her on the mouth, gentle and soft. She deepens it immediately, feels something blaze in her chest.

She doesn't bother finding her bra.

They make it upstairs this time.

* * *

She stares at her neck in the mirror the next morning, leans her head out of the bathroom to glare at Spike who's currently lounging on the couch in her apartment waiting for her (possibly, she slept over, his arms tight around her and she's trying to tell herself that she stayed because he's got good sheets but there's a very large part of her that knows it's not the sheets she stayed for. It's just – he _asked_ and she had to swallow twice before she agreed, afraid her voice was going to crack).

"What am I going to do about this?"

He glances up from the tv, looks at her neck and laughs. "Oops," he says carelessly. "That does look bad."

"We should get you a chew toy," she mutters, goes back to trying to layer concealer over her skin before giving up entirely and snagging a scarf from her closet.

Spike looks like he's trying not to laugh, hands her a travel mug. "You need cream, by the way, I just used the last of it. Also, is that supposed to take attention away from your neck? Cause it's not working."

She glares at him slack-jawed, snatching the mug out of his hand and taking a large sip. "I hate you," she says plaintively. But she doesn't really, at all, just thinks that it was completely counter-productive for them to wait so long.

He snorts, pulls her into a kiss, dropping another one on her forehead before she locks up her apartment. He kisses her fingers before they walk in the front doors and she's pretty sure she has a stupid look on her face for the next few hours (or, like, the whole day, whatever, not the point).

She's leaning back in her chair, boots up on the shelf waiting for her documents to finish scanning, hands behind her head.

Ed clears his throat as he leans on his elbows on her desk. "Winnie. Nice scarf."

She can't help it, she flushes. "Thanks."

"Cold, are you?" He's grinning, the monster.

"Think I'm getting sick."

"Ah. I see."

She clears her throat. "Yeah."

He gives her a knowing look that makes her flush a hundred times redder. "Okay well. See you later."

"Bastard," she mutters, half-laughing under her breath, makes a mental note to tell Spike to control himself next time. Then, thinks about the marks that are probably all over his back, the fading teeth marks that are definitely still on his shoulder and snickers, wishes she could be in the room when the rest of the guys see those.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Outtake 2 takes place right before this chapter. If that's not your fancy, basically Spike makes her incoherent, there's very little he's not good at, her heart does _things_ when he looks at her etc etc etc.

Here we go.

.

.

.

* * *

Winnie wishes they made a textbook for dating, the way they do for the course she's taking, wishes for a whole chapter on how to get your sister and your best friend off your back.

Mel and Dahlia have both been asking her how serious exactly things are getting between her and Spike and every time, Winnie snorts and rolls her eyes and changes the subject. But when she says, "Things are going great," both of them answer with some variation of, "Uh huh…?"

Also, Mel's taken to referring him as her actual-boyfriend instead of her work-husband and it's getting really old. Plus, they're just _dating_, like if either one of them wanted to go out tomorrow with someone else, that would be perfectly within their rights (except, Winnie doesn't want to and she's pretty sure from the amount of eye contact Spike makes with her when she's doing anything from eating cereal sitting on the counter in his kitchen to like, when she's lying on him in her underwear, that he doesn't want to either. Probably).

The point is, she doesn't want to mess this up by demanding labels and serious conversations and being all awkward like she usually is when she's having serious conversations.

Spike's been restless the whole night, like fidgeting and moving his feet and getting up every five minutes to walk to the kitchen and come back empty-handed. It's not like they usually sit there in silence or anything but usually, he'll read and let her study until he flicks a bit of paper at her, or she gets up on her knees, reaches over and puts a hand over his book, distracts him from tactics and IED detonations. This is not like that.

"You okay?" she asks, still focused on the textbook on her lap, tv on mute.

"Fine."

"Okay. Well. You don't seem fine," she says mildly.

He just looks at her, rubs a hand over his face, through his hair.

Slowly, she closes her book. "What is it?" She's a little (a lot) worried, wonders if she's gone and done something she didn't know she was doing, crossed a line without knowing she was crossing it. Yeah, that immediate thought that she's done something wrong? Something she's trying to get over.

"I uh. I." He clears his throat. "Okay, look. I get that you want to take this slow-"

She has no idea what he's talking about, is quite sure she's never said anything like that at all, thinks he really does see a hell of a lot more than the things she says.

"-and that's fine. I'm not-it's not like I'm rushing you-"

"Hang on a second. Rushing me where?"

He huffs, clears his throat. "Okay I just uh. I just want to know if you're-" He stops, clears his throat again. "I just want to know if we're-" He stops again.

"If we're-" She pauses. "Are you asking me if I'm sleeping with anyone else?"

"No, that's not-okay, yes, kind of but-"

"Cause I'm not." She's actually a little flattered he thinks she'd be capable of that, the amount of time they spend together ever since that first night when they went to dinner, since they started sleeping together. Either he's over or she is but either way, they're usually together. To say nothing about her feelings for him which are so complicated she doesn't even want to touch them but like – she gave up a serious rule for this guy. What does he think, she's in it for the coffee? "I uh. Yeah, no."

He looks a little relieved and she tries to put what she's thinking into words he can actually follow instead of just choking and leaving it at that like she usually does.

"It's just-I mean, we're together all the time. And. I sort of...I like it that way?" She absolutely hates the way her voice goes up at the end, like she's _asking_ him if she likes it, it's so stupid but apparently she's living, breathing proof that old habits die hard. Also, she wants to tell him that honestly, she's pretty sure she never wants to have sex with anyone else ever again, like why mess with perfection but thinks that's a bit much. Plus, he's got to know, the amount of sex they're having and how it always ends with her completely satisfied and spaced-out for several minutes.

He just looks at her and then nods. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I mean. Yes. This is...it's-you know, working. So."

"So," she echoes. It's entirely likely that there's a really stupid grin on her face.

He shakes his head a little, leans over the couch to kiss her and she is like _relieved_, and, possibly, a little (a lot) happy about this, despite it being a conversation she'd never in a million years have brought up herself. He pulls the book out of her hand, reaches down and picks her up like she weighs nothing, hauls her over the back of the couch. She's laughing into his mouth, clutching at his shoulders but as he carries her up the stairs, she's more than sure that he's not going to let her fall.

* * *

Team One's off tonight, just her and Team Three, Team Four on standby. It's a quiet shift, Sid's her relief and she's glad because not only does that mean no one's life is in danger anywhere but it also means that she will more than likely get to leave on time.

And since leaving on time means she can spend more time with Spike – well, it's not a thing she objects to, finds herself missing the sound of his voice when they don't work the same shift. Which is all kinds of stupid, if she thinks about it.

Her cell vibrates on the desk next to her, the same unknown number. The calls have come through six times in the past half hour and she suddenly has this terror that it's about someone who has her down as an ICE, her mom maybe, something wrong and-

"Hello?"

"Winnie?"

She freezes, had never expected to hear that voice ever again, is suddenly transported back in time, years in reverse, not sure what to do or say because whatever she chooses will be wrong.

"Winnie? Are you there?"

"I-yeah, I'm here." She closes her eyes, winces. Wants to get off this call immediately. Sooner if that's possible, wonders what in the hell it's about that everyone else's exes seem to stay firmly in the past but her's-

"I'm sorry for calling. I'm so sorry. Don't hang up. Please don't hang up. I uh. I need your help."

"You need my _help_?" She swallows hard, rubs a hand over the back of her neck. "Rob, I don't know if-"

"Please. Please help me."

"I don't think-"

"Please? Please. I know that things with us…didn't end well. But please. Help me."

And because she's soft and an _idiot_, she agrees.

She heads to the hospital after her shift, cursing his existence the whole time – she could be heading to Spike's, could be heading home, even. Could be getting a root canal. Three things which are infinitely better options.

She finds the right floor at St. Mike's, give Rob's fucking name and is pissed at herself the whole time.

Her phone rings and for the first time ever, she wishes Spike wasn't calling.

"Hey."

"Hey! Where are you? I kinda thought you'd be coming by after shift."

He doesn't say that that's the unofficial plan between them, that if she'd been running late, she'd have let him know because that's how things are and since she didn't- "Um. I had some errands to run."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Her mind goes blank (god, she is like one of the worst liars ever, really, she should watch Dahlia and take notes, learn how to lie with a smile on her face and her voice all smooth). "Just. You know. I had to buy tampons."

"Those are your errands? Shoppers Drug Mart?"

And trust him not to be like a regular guy. A regular guy and she'd be off the phone by now. "Yeah. Well. You know. And. Chocolate." She sees a running theme here.

He laughs. "Okay. Well. Are you going to come by when you're done 'running your errands'?"

And she has possibly set this up as a scenario where the odds of him getting any kind of fun physical outcome here are pretty fucking low and she feels, if possible, even worse. "Um. I'll call you?"

"Okay. You all right?"

"Yes. Fine. I'll see you later." She hangs up before she can say or not say anything incriminating, turns back to the nurse with what she hopes is a charming smile.

"Room 403. That way."

Winnie stands outside the door for five straight minutes, thinking about all the ways she doesn't want to do this but then she thinks about Spike and how much she'd rather just be with him so she straightens her spine and walks in.

Rob looks the same. Paler and more tired, maybe. Thinner. But still the same.

"What do you want me to do?" she asks, no preamble, has suddenly realized that she doesn't want to be here whatsoever and that she's probably the stupidest person on the planet for coming here in the first place.

He stares at her, looks her up and down. "Hey Winnie."

"Well?"

"You look good."

She stares at him incredulously. "I didn't come here to _chat_ with you. I've got things to do, so can you just. What do you want?"

"I need someone to sign me out. Well. Okay. I can do that myself. But I uh. I lost my wallet. And they're treating me like I'm a hobo or something. No ID."

"So? Call your mother." She turns to leave, is literally a step away from freedom, heart pounding in her chest, when he calls her back.

"I can't call her. You know that," he says, like _she's_ the idiot in this situation, in every situation, like nothing between them ever changed. "I just need you to ask them for the papers, let me sign them and then put me in a cab. That's it. Nothing else."

"What are you even in here for?" She's stalling.

"Concussion. It's not a big deal."

She looks at the black eye, the bruising around his cheekbone, thinks about what she knows about him and surmises that it was a fight and that the other guy probably looks worse. "No? Then why can't you just wait till they discharge you?"

"I have to be at work in six hours and-"

"You're _drunk_," she says skeptically. "How exactly are you going to be behind an unmarked squad car in six hours?"

"So, I'll have my partner drive!"

"Yeah, that's likely to happen. And then, when you end up killing someone, whose fault is it going to be? I know – the idiot who asked the doctors to sign you out against medical advice. No, Rob. No."

"Winnie, please." He sounds desperate all of a sudden. "It was just this one time, I fell off the wagon. I've been working the steps, I swear! Just a bad day, it won't happen again."

She rolls her eyes, turns to leave.

"Please don't walk away from me again," he says pleadingly. "I know I wasn't easy to live with but I'm begging you. If you ever cared about me. Please do this for me."

She thinks about that night, about crying in a motel room with her sister, about the _way_ she left. She rubs at the spot between her eyes. "Rob. If I do this – no more. No more calls, no nothing. We're done."

He nods frantically. "Yes, yes of course, I'll never call you again!"

She's heard it before of course, got calls from him to the point where she almost changed her number and then they stopped abruptly and she figured he was done, that things between them were finally _done_, but he looks so pathetic sitting on the hospital bed that she hears herself agreeing.

She does what he asks, gets this look from the nurse behind the desk and two doctors explain to Rob what it's going to mean if he signs himself out like this but then they look at her like she's going to take care of him or something and she's glaring at him. Leaves the room to call a cab and Rob doesn't listen to a word they say, even she can see that and so she wheels him outside, doesn't say one word to him, stops the wheelchair and something decides to go right because the cab's already waiting at the curb. She leans over to talk to the cab driver, asks for a flat rate and it's highway fucking robbery for it to be forty bucks but she hands it over, no questions.

She looks at Rob and then turns around and starts walking away.

"Hang on a second!"

She closes her eyes briefly before she turns back. "What? What do you want now? I already did what you asked. Remember fifteen minutes ago when you said you'd never contact me again? Let's start that part of the deal!"

He stares at her, mouth open, like he never realized she could stand on her own two feet (and she supposes that she doesn't blame him for that because god knows she never said anything remotely like that when they were together, never really questioned him at all). "When did you become so cruel?" he asks her and it shouldn't, it really fucking shouldn't, but it makes her feel awful inside, small and unpleasant.

"Rob-"

"No, I get it. Hey, I get it. You've moved on."

She shuffles her feet. "Yeah."

"So then go. Go back to your great life. Enjoy it."

She stares at him for a second, wants to point out that she's wasted half her evening on him, has done everything he just asked her to do (including paying for his cab ride home, thinks that's something he for sure would have pointed out to her if their roles were reversed), wants to say something that's going to make all of it different between them but knows there's nothing at all she could say. She doesn't know what it is, it's like she's around him and she's right back in those moments where she's desperately unhappy but she can't do anything but keep her mouth firmly shut. She shakes her head at him, turns around and walks away, calls Spike on her way to the streetcar.

"Hey," she says, without giving him a chance to answer the phone.

"You okay?" He sounds concerned and worried and possibly, it's going to make her cry.

"Uh. Yeah. I just. It's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing." Sometimes, it's hard to tell if this is just how he is or if all his SRU-talk-training is bleeding over into his personal life. Like, it can't be possible for one person to be so understanding all the time, his voice all gentle and all she wants to do is open her mouth in a way she never has before, never has with _anyone_, tell him all the things she's never confessed before.

"It's nothing," she says firmly. Kind of hopes that if she says it enough, it'll be true. "Just wanted to say. I'm on my way over now."

"Okay then," he says cautiously. "You hungry? I made food."

He's so thoughtful that it takes her breath away sometimes and she can't help but think that if she hadn't just spent her time on that idiot Rob, she could have been at home with Spike, dinner across from each other and lying together on the couch. That's suddenly all she wants to do, all she feels like doing.

"Win?"

"Yeah. Yeah I'm hungry. I can't wait to see you."

He laughs. "Yeah? Miss me on my day off, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"I have some idea. Missed you too."

Is he _trying_ to make her soul cry? "I'll see you soon," she says, streetcar stopping a lane over.

"See you soon."

His door's ajar when she gets there. She pushes it open, is in the process of locking it and taking off her shoes, hears the tv in the background.

"Hey Winnie," he says, walks over to her in jeans that have holes in the knees and a sweater that she knows for a fact that he's had since high school, a smile on his face like she's just made his whole evening better and she just wants to know how she worked with him for so many years without ever jumping him in the locker room. She leans up kisses him long and hard on the mouth, thinks that it just doesn't make sense that a man who smells this good has been waiting for her.

"Hey."

He looks a little dazed and she just wants to wrap him around her, burrow way into him, forget about this whole evening up until this point.

"So. You said something about food?" She smiles, thinks how fucking great it is to come home to him after work (it's just-it's pretty great, is all).

He slides his fingers against hers, leads her into the kitchen, pushes her gently into a chair and presents her with a full plate. It's stupid for something like that to get her choked up. It's just – that feeling like someone wants to take care of her, maybe, someone doing things just to see her smile.

She takes her first bite while he gets her a drink, walks around the kitchen talking to her and she realizes, when he leans over and kisses her forehead mid-sentence, that that weird sensation in the middle of her chest? Possibly, it's her heart feeling like it's warm and full and like everything is _good_.

* * *

It's easy not to think about Rob when Spike's telling her to bring her skates to work and she's got an evening of him holding her hand to look forward to.

They run into Sarge before they leave, just outside the elevator, the backs of their fingers barely touching. He grins at them, takes in everything Spike insisted on carrying. "Skating?"

"Yep. You wanna come?"

He snorts. "Next time. I'll bring Dean with me."

Winnie grins. "He get over that girl yet?"

"I don't think he'll be getting over her any time soon," Boss huffs. "It's taking all my restraint not to tell him that he's young and there's plenty more fish in the sea."

"Who knows," Spike says, glances quickly down at her, "maybe it'll work out."

Boss just grins at the two of them, smile lighting up his whole face. "Have a nice night, you two."

So skating together when it's just the two of them, when she can lean up and kiss him any time she wants, when he holds her hand the whole time, pulls her along with him? Yeah. Trumps skating the way they did it before they were together, that's all.

He takes off one of her mittens after an hour, jams it into his pocket even as he slides their palms together.

He leans close to talk to her and he makes her laugh, grins at her when she does. And the whole time, he doesn't let go of her.

They get tea, drink it with their elbows leaning on the boards, air so chilly they can see their own breath and she thinks that this is it, this is what she wants, all of these perfect moments she gets with him.

Rob calls her again three days later. She and Spike are wrestling on the couch (which-like, he's winning, obviously, but possibly, he likes how she's fighting back? She doesn't even know but also can't deny that she's enjoying it too) and she's content to let it ring, let whatever's about to happen, just go on and on but Spike sits up, still straddling her knees.

"You answering that?" It's just-the phone's rung six times in the past fifteen minutes, Winnie gets it, it's distracting and he probably thinks it's Dahlia, knows by now that her best friend will call and call until Winnie finally picks it up.

"Wasn't planning on it," she pants, sits up and wriggles out of her shirt.

He grins at her, drops back down to kiss her some more.

They stumble their way up the stairs and she thinks that it's entirely possible that life never gets better than this (and she is totally and completely fine with that).

Except then, after, her phone's still ringing downstairs. Spike's dozing beside her so she wriggles herself out from underneath his arm and the blankets, makes her way back down the stairs, doesn't even look at the screen before she answers.

"Dahl, honest to god, what-"

"Winnie?"

Her mouth drops open. That's how naïve she is, that she thought after not hearing from him since the hospital, since he told her to go back to her life, that it was actually over. Finally _over_.

"Winnie, you there?"

"I-yes. What do you want?"

"I um. Just need someone to talk to."

She closes her eyes briefly, wonders what in the fuck is wrong with her that she doesn't just hang up the phone and go back upstairs.

"I'm just. Struggling."

She takes a deep breath, scratches at the coffee table with her fingernail. "You said you were working the program. Where's your sponsor?"

"Yeah uh. She's busy right now."

She rubs a hand over her face. "I can't-"

"Please. Please just talk to me. I just need…please."

And because apparently she never fucking _learns_, she sits there and she listens to him. For an hour. Hates herself the whole entire time. He's as fucked up as he always was, sleeping with this waitress he met (she balks at that, like why is he telling her all about the fucked up things he and this girl have been getting up to? But if she needed any further proof that she did the right thing, leaving him, nevermind _how_ she did it, this would be it), how he still has the dreams, still sees things in his head and how work's been the same day in, day out.

"I miss you."

She doesn't say anything, just stares straight ahead of her, a picture of Spike as a kid, huge grin on his face and his dad standing beside him, right in her line of vision. "You can't call me again," she says. Her lips are trembling.

"Win-"

"Please. Don't. Get some help." And then, she hangs up the phone. She sits there for a few more minutes, glad for the silence but feeling like the world's worst person for being glad for it and what she wants? She wants to go upstairs, wake Spike up, tell him all about it, but that involves telling him _everything_ and-

"Winnie?"

She smiles up at him, tousled head leaning over the railing. "Hey."

"You okay?" he asks, yawning.

"Yeah, just uh. Came down to check my phone."

He comes down and sits beside her on the steps and she leans against him, closes her eyes when she thinks that it would have been very easy to never have had the chance to do this, how she could have let this chance just pass her right by. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Possibly, she is kind of tearing up a little thinking about all the ways her life could have gone. She chokes it all back down, presses her forehead against his neck. "Nothing. Just. I'm glad I'm here with you." And she is. She really fucking is, means it more than she's ever meant anything.

His arm slides around her, fingers warm against her skin and he turns his face, kisses her gently. "Me too."


	15. Chapter 15

It's stupid to be afraid of a day. Especially someone's birthday.

But.

Winnie dreads it every single year because it's her and the rest of Team One stuck in an endless loop, everyone else moving on with their lives as if they've forgotten. She hangs around after her shift is done, after she gets dressed, walks back and forth in front of the briefing room, puts her hair up, takes it down, puts it back up, fiddles with a thread inside her left mitten.

She has her back to the door when it finally slides open, pauses before she turns around. Spike's looking right at her like he knew where she was standing before he even saw her, looks like he wants to fall asleep where he's sitting, dark circles and ashy skin, no hint of a smile anywhere on his face.

Boss smiles at her, this sad smile, his lips all pressed together, squeezes her shoulder as he walks past but she doesn't have time to think about what he's trying to tell her because she's only looking at Spike. She waits until everyone has headed in the direction of the locker rooms before she slips into the chair beside him. "Why don't you get dressed? I'll drive you."

He stares at her, eyes roaming her face before he lets out a sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

He pushes himself up out of the chair, looks at her before he leaves the room. She shakes her head, lets out a shaky breath. Wonders if this day is brutal for everyone else too (thinks about the tightness in the corner of Boss's eyes, Ed's quietness, how Sam and Jules stood side by side earlier, like they were getting ready to fight a war – thinks that yes, this day is brutal for everyone else too). She stays in the briefing room for a few minutes, runs her fingers over the faint scratches in the table.

Spike's hair is wet when he meets her at the elevators, like he couldn't even find the strength to pull the towel over his head. She doesn't say anything, just reaches for the keys and thinks it says a lot about his state of mind when he just hands them over, no teasing about her driving or pretending to hold the keys above her head like they're two kids on the playground.

Winnie's never found cemeteries peaceful, too many horror movies as a child, and like, she's not one to sit in front of a headstone and talk to it, think she's talking to the person she lost (all of that said, she could have sworn she felt her brother once, a few years after he died. Got off the bus and felt a hand grabbing lightly at her wrist, knew it was him right away).

Lew's parents are already there waiting, his mom's holding flowers and Winnie cuts the engine, looks at Spike. He's staring out the window at them and then he turns to look at her. She sees his pulse jump once in his throat and then even out, thinks about sniper breathing and the kind of hands it takes to dismantle bombs.

She bites at her bottom lip, looks up at him bravely even though looking at him with that expression on his face makes her throat hurt. "You uh. You want me to come?"

He looks back out the window, makes eye contact with Lew's dad.

"I don't want to intrude," she says hastily. "If you don't-"

"Yeah. Yeah. Please."

And she wants to say that he never has to say that word, not to her.

He slides his hand into hers, tightens his fingers around hers and it's just a shade away from painful. She squeezes back just as hard. He doesn't let go of her as Lew's parents hug him, as they reach over and hug her (actually, Lew's dad gives Spike this eyebrow raise and it's the first time all day that Spike's had even a hint of a smile on his face. She gets this overwhelming urge to giggle, knows she's blushing).

She stands off to the side, lets the three of them get closer to the headstone and she sees Lew's mom wiping away tears, his dad taking these deep breaths.

Lew's mom kneels, starts talking softly and Winnie can only hear the tone, can't distinguish words. Lew's dad dusts the snow off the headstone, spends some time fiddling with the flowers, removes the stems of the ones that were there before.

Spike's just standing there, this frozen expression on his face and she wants to slide her arms around him, tell him that she's never going to leave him, that the way she feels about him makes no sense to her, that everything's happening too fast and not fast enough and she thinks she could possibly want forev-

She almost takes a step back. Jesus Christ, see, this is why she hates cemeteries, they're just reminders of the fact that time is always too short and it makes you go and do stupid ass things and get these _feelings_ that aren't actually how you feel about stuff because everything gets all confused in your brain.

Lew's parents are standing together, both of them looking at the headstone and slowly, Winnie takes a few steps forward. Spike reaches out blindly, slides his arm around her waist and hugs her to him, presses a kiss to her temple. She doesn't hear a thing that anyone else says, keeps thinking about weight transfers and dead people.

The four of them walk back slowly and Winnie can hear Lew's mom telling Spike that he shouldn't be a stranger, that he should bring his girlfriend around with him next time, gives him a kiss on the cheek and then pats his shoulder. She looks at Winnie, hugs her gently, tells her to be careful driving home, except it kind of sounds like she's telling her to be careful with something else and Winnie wants to tell her that she gets it and that she's never been so careful with anything in her entire life.

She and Spike get in the car and Lew's parents just watch them as Winnie turns the ignition, these two long, sad figures under a street lamp. Spike looks exhausted, like he just lived forty years in forty minutes and she drives slowly, way slower than she usually would, lets him relax in the seat next to her.

She parks in his usual spot, turns the car off but neither one of them gets out.

It's him who breaks the silence, voice low. "Every year I think it's not going to suck as bad. And every year-" He breaks off, stares out the window.

She turns to look at him, thinks the only semi-useful thing she can come up with is that it's _always_ going to suck, figures it's the exact opposite of comforting so she doesn't say anything. She lets out a sigh, thinks that this would be another one of those great times to have the right words to say.

"You still miss your brother?"

She takes a moment to think about what she's trying to say before she answers him. "I miss what we should have been. I never got the chance to be anything other than an annoying little sister. I wish we could have been friends. You know?" She's trying to say that she knows how he feels, knows what it feels like to miss the things you didn't get to do, the life you didn't get to spend with someone.

He presses back into the headrest, swallows hard. "How did your parents stand it? I don't know how Lew's parents stand it. His mom cries every single year when we go."

She frowns at the question. "I don't know. Probably not well. I mean, they split up after." She shakes her head. "I don't know." Truth is, she's never asked. Afraid of the answer, not wanting to know what the answer is, afraid that there won't _be_ an answer.

The silence in the car should be stifling but it isn't, just feels like it's them.

"Are you-uh, can you stay?"

"Of-Spike, of course I'm staying." She rolls her eyes at him, smiles a little, tries her best to lighten the mood even a little bit. "How do you usually spend his birthday?"

"Uh…" he shrugs. "Dunno. Getting trashed, mostly." She thinks she sees the corner of his mouth lift just a little bit, like he's trying just as hard as she is here.

She clears her throat, thinks about how impossible it usually is to get ahold of him today, thinks about how she tried the first year and then figured he just didn't want her company. She opens her door. "Come on."

She reaches around him to lock up the front door once they're inside and he crushes her to him, arms wrapped tight around her. She hugs him right back, his belt buckle digging into her hip, doesn't say anything.

"Thanks for. Uh. Being here."

She makes a face at him. "Stop it. Where else would I be?" The words come out so easily that she doesn't even think about them and then she wants to shift her feet. She doesn't wait for him to reply, just heads into the kitchen. He sits on the counter, just watches her and she knows who the better cook is between the two of them and it isn't her, so she just throws together soup and grilled cheese because it's easy and about all she can handle right now (plus it makes her think of being young, curled up on her mom's lap, her brother tickling Mel on the floor in front of them) and then hunts around in the cupboard for the scotch.

She pours them both a generous amount, two and a half fingers, she thinks (has a vague recollection of doing this for her dad when she was younger when they were all still a family), hands him his glass.

"To Lew," she says, clinks her glass against his.

He looks at her, reaches out to touch her cheek, push strands of hair behind her ear. "To Lew."

They drain their glasses, eat in silence, her leaning on her elbows on the counter right next to him and then she pours them another glass each and they drink it standing in front of his back door, staring out at the night, all the lights off, his arm pulling her back against him.

Afterwards, she leads him upstairs, gets them both undressed and slides under the covers next to him. He pulls her tightly against his side, kisses her forehead and before he falls asleep, he says, "The last thing Lew ever said to me? S'the first time I've ever really believed him."

And she knows they're both a little drunk and a lot maudlin but she thinks about that call and about his scream and about those words and she falls asleep curled up in his arms, one of his hands tangled in hers.

She gets dinner with Dahlia the next night (leaves Spike to hang out with Sam and Raf, all three of them already hollering at the tv when she slips out the front door but he gave her this kiss in the kitchen when Sam and Raf were getting themselves settled in the living room, his fingers cupped around her face and possibly, she felt it all the way down her body to her feet. Also, Raf had this little smirk on his face when she opened the door for him and she just reached out and shoved him lightly in the shoulder, rolled her eyes, pointed at the living room) and they've barely started eating when Dahlia goes, "So. When are you two getting married?"

Winnie raises her eyes to the ceiling, continues eating.

"Any stories?"

She has to think about that one, not entirely sure what Dahlia means. "Not really. Like what?"

Dahlia makes a face at her. "I don't know, has he done anything annoying yet?"

Winnie pauses, roots around for something that she finds even mildly irritating and can't really come up with anything (she supposes that that's the thing with people who can compare a relationship to one that was really bad, like bottom of the barrel bad, knows someone like Dahlia would never really be able to understand). "Um. He keeps hanging up my coat?"

Dahlia stares at her with her mouth open, half-chewed food on display. "Are you kidding me?"

"I don't know!" she says defensively. "He's not really an annoying kind of person. What do you want me to say?"

"So nothing? Really nothing? He doesn't I don't know, chew with his mouth open?" Dahlia's leaning over the table slightly, braced on her forearm and her knife clutched in her right hand.

"What, like you?" She rolls her eyes, leans over and pushes up Dahlia's chin.

She swallows her food thoughtfully. "What about get up in the middle of the night and turn all the lights on?"

Winnie stares at her, food falling off her fork. Wonders if that's what she had to look forward to in the dating world before she looked at Spike one day and realized that nothing was the way she thought it was.

"Seriously? Seriously. He's not into, I don't know. Scat porn? Dressing you up like a football player? Or a cat?"

She bursts out laughing, thinks it's probably some kind of sharp relief but also like she's grateful for exactly the direction her life is heading in. "I don't even want to know. And no. But is there something _you_ want to talk about?"

"And the sex is still good?" Dahlia ignores her, asks the question dubiously.

That is a thing that's _more_ than good and Winnie doesn't care who knows it. "Yes."

"Like he's still taking the time to-"

"Yes. More than once. Several times usually." Winnie tries not to sound smug.

"Shut up."

She shrugs at her, grinning. "You asked."

"God, what the hell is this guy, the Holy Grail of men? Jesus."

"Yeah, I'm not complaining."

"Of course you're not. I just. Really? At least twice? Several times? All the time?"

"All the time."

Dahlia makes a face at her. "I kind of hate you now."

"Meh. Understandable." Winnie thinks if she was hearing this story, she'd hate her too.

"Just. Really? Several times? Fucking hell. Bet if you'd known that, you two would have gotten together years ago. I always think that it would be so much more helpful if we had rate my professors but for guys."

Winnie rolls her eyes at her, thinks that it's not just good sex that has her smiling stupidly to herself sometimes (it's just-how he reaches for her hand like he doesn't want to let her go, how he makes her dinner when she's pulled some OT, how he insists on helping her study and all of it wrapped up in the way he _smiles_ at her).

"Like for their skills in bed," Dahlia says unnecessarily.

"Yeah, I got that one, thanks."

"Just checking. But really, wouldn't that be awesome? I should start it." She grins at her. "He's really good for you, eh?"

Winnie has no idea what in the hell that even means, knows she was just fine before but thinks that Spike makes it ridiculously easy to be happy with him. "Yeah I guess." Thinks she's probably got a pretty silly look on her face.

"God, the two of you make me want to barf," she says good-naturedly. "So seriously? Really nothing weird? No socks while you're getting busy, no weird shrine to his mother? You can tell me."

"Who in the hell are the guys you're dating?"

Dahlia ignores her, takes a few more bites of her food and then says, "Okay, I've got to know – how many times has he used the fact that he's a cop to his advantage?"

Winnie rolls her eyes at her. "I have no idea. Why don't you ask him?"

"_You've _never asked him?"

"I really don't want to know."

"Really? You don't want to know how many girls he's been with? Wow. That's like the first thing I ask a guy." She pauses. "Hey, you think that's the problem?" She's grinning like even if it is, she doesn't give a shit.

Winnie lets out a snort.

"You really don't want to know?"

She shakes her head. She really doesn't, doesn't care because it's him and her now and it's like everything that happened before doesn't matter, doesn't even count.

"You tell him you're in love with him yet?"

She nearly drops her fork. "Um _no_. That's-it's been a second."

"So?"

"That what you do? Go out with a guy a few times and then confess your undying love? Another piece of the puzzle falls into place." She is trying desperately to change the subject here, voice light, knows that Dahlia loves to talk about herself.

Dahlia pauses at that, doesn't take the bait. "Okay no, but it's different with you guys. You haven't just 'been out a few times'."

"It really isn't. It's-it hasn't been that long. I'm not going to like, scare him off by getting way too serious too soon. That's just so...no."

"But you do?"

She laughs but it sounds a little forced, even to her own ears. "Okay, seriously? Why don't we talk about you? Been on any dates lately?"

Dahlia's eyebrows are in her hair. "Okay, wow. I was just…I wasn't being serious about-"

"I know."

And she does know. It's not a big deal. Like, it's just too soon to be feeling any kind of way. That's the bottom line here.

* * *

Winnie's sitting on the low wall outside the SRU front entrance playing Tetris on her phone. This is not exactly where she likes to hang out on her day off but for Spike, she makes the exception. Plus, she thinks that the entire thing with Lew's birthday and the cemetery a few nights ago is still on Spike's mind and she wants to do whatever she can to make it go away, just for a little bit.

She smiles when her phone rings. "Hey."

"Out on time, can you believe it? Hi by the way."

She can hear Spike's good mood right through the receiver. "I really can't believe it," she says. "Where are you?"

"Walking through the front doors right n-" He stops abruptly, smile spreading across his face as he sees her, phone still in his hand as he walks over to her. "Hey." Leans down to kiss her.

She's still not used to the way he kisses her, like he doesn't care who sees, like it's always about him and her and never about showing her who's right and who's wrong. She twists her fingers in the front of his unbuttoned coat so that he'll kiss her a little longer, smirks up at him playfully. "Hey yourself."

"What are you doing here?" He's giving her that _fond_ smile, the one she sees on his face whenever she surprises him.

"What can I say? Can't get this place out of my head," she says with a snort. "No um, thought we could go do something."

"Something like…?" He leers playfully at her.

She rolls her eyes at him but actually, now that he's brought it up, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea (idly wonders if they'll be too cold if they just do it right in the backseat of his car, has to remind herself that she's here for a _reason_). "Not that. And it's a surprise, you'll see when we get there."

"So? Where are we going?"

She grins at him, leans over and snatches his car keys out of his hand. "You'll see when we get there," she repeats.

"And, what? You're driving?" He tempers the disbelief with a smile.

She rolls her eyes. "It's easier if we drive. And yes. I'm driving."

He winces a bit as he opens the passenger door. "Be gentle. I've heard stories."

She glares at him, starts the car and turns up the heating. "Ed's exaggerating. It was one time and I didn't get a ticket."

"Yeah you charmed your way out of it." He snickers. "Good thing you're cute."

The compliment stops her as she's doing up her seatbelt. Obviously, she's figured that he likes the way she looks, catches him staring at her sometimes but come on, he's a guy, for the number of times it's been her face, she's also caught him staring at her ass or her boobs so she doesn't even know.

"So? Are we going?" He clicks his seatbelt in meaningfully. "And remember, it's not a race. And the brake's on the left."

She mock-glares at him. "Now you're just crossing your stories. I'm pretty sure that was Clark Lane, it was a tractor and he was nine."

He shrugs. "Seems like something you might do." He says it with a grin on his face.

She rolls her eyes at him as she pulls into traffic, heads towards the Gardiner. Minutes later (and okay, yes, possibly she's speeding just a little, just grins at Spike when he keeps glancing at the speedometer and shaking his head), she takes the exit on the left, heads north, can practically hear him wanting to ask where they're going.

"Where are we going?"

She lets out a long-suffering sigh, smiles at him. "Somewhere. Just relax."

He laughs, slides his hand onto her thigh. "I'm relaxed."

She rolls her eyes.

They argue over the radio a little, Spike smacking playfully at her hand when she tries to switch the station and then leaving it on a song she likes anyhow and she grins at him as she sings along.

They're way uptown and heading east when Spike glances at her and says, "Is this the part where you kill me? Should I have called my Ma to say goodbye?"

She snorts. "I would have made sure not to pick you up in public if that were the case."

He laughs, shakes his head. "You got me there. Seriously, where are we going?"

"You will find out when we get there."

The parking lot is rammed but Winnie heads to the very back, pulls into a spot and smiles over at him.

He looks around, eyebrows up. "Bubble tea and discount electronics?"

She sighs and opens her car door. "You are the most impatient person ever."

"I know." He slides out of the car, comes around to her side, fingers sliding onto her hip as she gathers up her stuff.

She smiles at him, bounds out of the car to kiss him on the lips and then shuts the door. "Come on."

He makes them stop for the waffle cakes and she rolls her eyes but they're hot and fresh and he tells her about this time that Lew choked on one because he could never remember that they were going to burn his mouth. He gives her this kind of sad look after and she stops walking right where she is, forces several people to go around them, leans up and kisses him right on the lips, just once. He smiles against her mouth, kisses her back and then leans over and bites at the dough in her hand. She sighs, like him eating her food just makes her life so difficult, ruins the whole effect by smiling. She shoves the rest of it into her mouth and feels ridiculously warm when he pulls her closer to him.

It's kind of been a while since she set foot in here but it looks exactly the same as she remembers it (actually, as she remembers it, Dahlia and one of their other friends brought her here in that little period between getting their fake ids taken away and turning nineteen. Dahl called it Total Desperation but Winnie never minded it all that much).

"The arcade?" Spike gives her this look that's part excited, part disbelief and she's actually rethinking that quickie in the back of the car now, thinks she should have just gone for it, how the dimple in his cheek is making her want to bite at his neck (so okay, fine, it's possible that he's had some kind of effect on her, corners rubbing off and all of that).

She grins. "It'll be fun." She slides her hand into his, keeps grinning when he squeezes.

He's annoyingly good at the shooting games, all a hundred percent accuracy, a crowd of middle school-aged kids gathering around to watch (he offers her good-natured tips on her stance and points out that she should have the gun pressed right into her shoulder - she rolls her eyes at him, doesn't bother adjusting any of those things) and the racing games, although he helpfully points out that she should be good at those too since she likes speeding so much and actually, he's pretty good at most of the games in there.

They play all of them at least three times, even the really bad ones and when he battles Blanka against her Ken and loses, he gives her this look like she's got all these secrets he doesn't know about and she keeps laughing because that right there is several months spent with nothing to do on Saturday nights except hustle twelve year old boys at Street Fighter. Possibly, she thinks he likes it too, he gives her this grin like it's _rewarding_ for him to be seen with her. It makes her stop for a second, this feeling like her heart is just way too full because he's the first guy to ever look at her that way (and there's a part of her that wants him to be the last).

His dimple's out in full force when they're leaving, that smile, pulls her close to him, his fingers sliding between her jeans and her shirt to brush against her skin.

"Do I get to take you home now?"

She snickers, leans her head against his shoulder. "You just want to drive."

"That might be true. But I also want to get you naked. Hope that's okay."

She pretends to look bored but really, she is possibly the exact opposite of bored. "I suppose that'll work."

He snorts, rolls his eyes but he kisses her hard on the mouth the second they get in the car.

She glances at him on the drive back, thinks that the way things are going, the way he talks to her and smiles at her and looks at her, she's just probably never going to want to give him back.

He uh – he does get her naked. But she's more than a willing participant and she never actually knew that a scarf over her eyes could actually be one of those things that turned out to be fun and it takes everything in her afterwards to kiss him and tell him she should head home.

He gives her this look like he wants to sigh and roll his eyes at her but he doesn't, just gets up and starts getting dressed, tells her he'll drive her.

All she can think about is how badly she wants to stay.

* * *

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AN: If you're interested, the scene that takes place at the end there can be found in the outtakes - if that's your poison. You'll miss nothing at all if it isn't.


	16. Chapter 16

AN: I completely and totally apologize for the length of this chapter. I have no excuse whatsoever.

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* * *

Two weeks later, when Winnie's starting to let herself believe that everything really is going to work out, like she's really _happy _and it's not a bad thing, she gets a surprise.

Now that she thinks about it, she's not sure how this is the first time since she's been at SRU that their paths have crossed professionally-speaking. Rob's division is like, right outside the front door, he's a detective and SRU deals with detectives most of the time. So she doesn't know what's up with the shock running through her system, thinks it has to do with two worlds colliding and everything feeling all fucked up.

She hears the pause when he recognizes her voice but she ignores it and him and patches the call straight through to Boss. And then she sits back a little, makes a face, swallows and tries to steady her hands. It's like the world is telling her that she can't forget him, can't let go of him, can't forget what she did to him.

He's finally starting to leave her alone, she's slowly starting to forget he ever existed (or at the very least, she's starting to forget that when they ended, it felt like she would die alone, that it was probably no less than she deserved) and now it's like every time she turns around, he's in her face - and then she berates herself for feeling that way at all, how selfish it is that she got to escape and he never can. She shakes her head at herself, wonders if he's drunk-and-slurring-Rob or nice-guy-Rob, the one she stayed in a bad relationship trying to find. She hears him meeting up with the rest of Team One, hears him meeting Spike and honestly, what _is_ this? It's like she's stepped right into the Twilight Zone and she doesn't like it.

Rob calls her once on her cell but she doesn't pick up and he doesn't call back after that. She thinks that's got to be a positive thing, is really really hoping that it is.

It's not like she and Spike _debrief_ after shift, sure they talk about things and they do that a lot (sometimes, they don't talk at all, actually and just being close to him, kissing him and having him touch her – sometimes it's better than talking, is all she's saying) but it's not like the way the rest of the team debriefs.

Today though, she wants to know if Rob was a dick, if he said anything that could be misconstrued (it's just - he knows about Spike, she told him, kind of thought that's why he'd stopped calling her and now she doesn't know if that was the right thing or the wrong thing, that little comment of, "Huh, sure like your cops, don't you?" right after and how it just shocked her right into silence). Spike raises his eyebrow at her, tells her that the Detective was a regular guy, got the job done, nothing special about him. "Why?"

It's her opening. All she has to say is that she knows him, that they used to date (live together) and that he's been calling her. And that she's not interested, not in any kind of way, not at all.

She opens her mouth and hears herself saying she's ready to go whenever he is.

He grins at her, reaches out to barely graze her hip with his fingers before he turns around to head to the locker room.

She curses herself every second that he's gone.

She reaches for him the second they get to her apartment and they don't make it to the couch, let alone her bed. He tries to slow her down, hands on her jaw, gentle with her and he kisses her all soft and sweet, but she won't let it be that way and finally, he just gives up, leans back and lets her do whatever she wants. She wishes he could crawl inside her skin, get rid of every last piece of guilt that she has, all of it wrapped up in Rob, in how it ended, in the fact that she's a bad liar and lying by omission is really just as bad as outright lying.

Also, she tries to convince herself that Spike wouldn't care, even if he _did_ know but he leans up to kiss her afterwards, one hand wrapped around her waist and the other on the back of her neck and yeah, she's just not so sure, thinks this is a pretty big thing she's going out of her way not to tell him about.

"What's gotten into you?" he asks breathlessly, half laughing.

It's just-god, she just doesn't want him to stop looking at her like this, wants him to gaze at her this way forever, like she's _better_ than she knows she is. It makes her stomach hurt, makes her heart feel like it's too big for her chest. "Nothing. Nothing-just. What? Something on your mind?" Arches her eyebrow at him, pushes the question back at him, all the things she's learned about talking from the SRU. What she really wants to say is that she cares about him, cares about him an absolutely ridiculous amount (maybe more than cares about him – and it's getting harder to tell herself that she doesn't), that he makes her smile and he makes her laugh and he makes her feel like herself and she never wants any of it to stop.

He kisses her again and she also thinks that the way he kisses her is another thing she never wants to stop.

It kind of feels like she's trying to simultaneously prepare for the worst and like, never let him go at the same time and it's playing havoc on her brain and her shoulders because they're pulled up into her ear lobes every time she thinks about Spike and Rob and all the things she's trying to keep straight.

She's at his house one night, has told herself that she's going to tell him all about Rob as soon as he gets off the phone, is keeping her fingers busy by sewing on all these buttons that have fallen off her clothes, all these sweaters and pants piled up on the floor in front of her, thread in one hand and a box of buttons next to her. He's been walking around the kitchen for the past thirty-five minutes and she's squinting through the eye of the needle when Spike storms into the living room, drops the phone on the coffee table and sits down so hard he bounces her box of buttons all over the place.

"What happened?" she asks with concern. It's not like him, usually when he gets off the phone with Italy, he's smiling.

He sighs. "Nothing. Nothing happened."

She nods slowly, thinks this is probably a bad time to bring up her ex. "Okay. Um. You want some tea?"

He stares at her, lets out a snort of laughter and the lines of frustration around his eyes soften a little. "Tea, eh?"

"Cures everything. So I'm told." She rolls her eyes at herself, like tea, seriously, is she eighty years old or what, drops her needle and thread on the table and stands up.

He reaches for her as she walks past, yanks hard at her arm so that she tumbles right into his lap with a little yelp.

"What-"

"Why'd you say yes?"

She's still trying to get her bearings, the world suddenly sideways, how his hands on her always make her forget every thought she was in the middle of having. "What?" Kind of feels like she's still falling here because she's not an idiot, she knows exactly what he's talking about.

"Why did you-"

"No, I heard you. I just-" She's frantically trying to find an answer that's an answer, that's not going to leave her looking stupid or desperate or crazy (those were Rob's three favourite things to call her, is suddenly something she's remembering way too clearly and it was easier to put this stuff out of her mind when she wasn't being confronted with evidence of his continued existence at every turn in the road). "I-why?"

He lets out an exhale, lets her straighten herself out. Doesn't let go of her though. "Don't know. We've never talked about it."

She swallows, is trying to go over every single conversation they've ever had, all that before and after and she just doesn't know, can't remember what's said to him and what she hasn't, also feels like maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to tell him the truth, that living without him just stopped making sense to her.

"You know what? I shouldn't have-"

"Hang on. Just. Spike. I-"

He shakes his head like it doesn't matter. "Win-"

"Because. Because I _wanted_ to." She's not lying, she did want to, clearly - showing up at his place the way she did, being the one to ask him. But she leaves out all the other stuff, the stuff about being scared, how all her fear got switched around and how he just crept up on her and she never _expected_ it, never expected him, never expected to look at him and not just have a vague wonder for what he was hiding under that uniform, never thought that sharing a pillow and a bed with someone could be so easy and the fact that she's still scared, only now it's of screwing everything up, of _hurting_ him and-

"My Ma keeps asking when I'm bringing you to Italy with me," he says, glances at her cautiously. "She's like a second away from calling you up and asking you herself so. Just a head's up."

There is not even one remotely intelligent thought in her head. She's pretty sure her mouth's open, actually.

"You going to freak out?" He sounds like he's kidding, voice light but she sees the way his eyes meet hers, just for a second.

"No," she says emphatically, even though her voice is about an octave higher than usual. "Why would I freak out? I um. I didn't realize we were at that kind of stage."

He clears his throat, glances at her and then at the phone on the coffee table. "Uh. We're-we're not…exactly. I just-she hasn't gotten that memo. I don't think. Neither has the rest of my family."

He's still not really looking at her, eyes skittering away every second like if he looks at her too long, she's going to get up and leave or something, disappear into thin air. "Oh. Uh. My sister's kind of like that too." She's actually just kind of thinking that whatever stage is the stage where they go on vacations together would be a pretty great stage to be in (and also, who in the hell is she, like he just said they weren't at that stage and she's thinking that maybe she wants all those things she keeps telling herself she doesn't need).

Spike's eyes meet hers and hold and he lets out a breath and then leans forward and kisses her and she feels like the conversation's done now and there's this tiny pit of disappointment somewhere inside her. "Uh. Winnie?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Spike?" Okay, she can keep things light too.

"We're kinda heading in that direction, right?"

She stares at him, knows her mouth has fallen open again (and like, she can't even _enjoy_ this because now she's thinking about all the things she wants to tell him, all the things she thinks he probably has a right to know, all the things she wants to say right now but can't because it's going to ruin this amazing moment that she can't even enjoy). "I-uh-yeah. Yeah." Slides her arms up around his neck.

He gives her this reassured kind of look, hugs her and then stands up with her still in his arms. "We're going to forget the tea," he says seriously.

And then he's carrying her upstairs and he's letting her leave his living room in complete disarray and she's laughing and yeah. She's not going to tell him about Rob then, either.

* * *

The night her sister flies in, they get in a fight. It's not really a _fight_, not the way she remembers fights being, more like a disagreement but he's frustrated with her, she can hear that in his voice and it gets her back up, even though it shouldn't and all she's doing is looking for a way out of this situation, slow it down before it escalates. He just – he's usually so easy-going, especially with her.

"I don't get why you won't just let me drive you. You hate the 401 and you said yourself that she over packs."

"We'll figure it out. You worked all day, she's coming in late." Like she can't figure out how to get a suitcase into a trunk all on her own.

He actually looks annoyed at how soothing she thinks her voice sounds. "You worked all day too - you realize how that doesn't make sense, right?"

"_You_ shouldn't have to stay up late just because _my_ sister is coming in." She clears her throat. "Do you just not want me driving your car?"

He closes his eyes briefly, shakes his head at her like she's the most annoying person he's ever met. "Why won't you just let me help you?"

That stops her and it's on the tip of her tongue to say she doesn't need his help, can do stuff on her own with no problems, that she learned to stop accepting favours from people when they ended up getting thrown back in her face, all of which just goes to show that Rob is still really messing with her head. She just stays silent.

He sighs, looks at her with these eyes that make her feel like a total asshole. "Okay well. The offer's there."

She just stares at him, feels a little bit like she went to the store to buy apples and got a free pie instead. He sighs again, leans forward and kisses her briefly before he turns and leaves the room. She hears the tv turn on and she's still standing there, still confused as to what in the hell just happened.

She gets herself some water still trying to break it down in her head. Because what she told Dahlia all those weeks ago still holds - she _is _waiting for the other shoe to drop and she supposes that there was a part of her that was waiting for the screaming to start, all her instincts telling her to shut the situation down before it could. Which - stupid.

This is a different relationship, she knows that.

She does.

She leans against the doorframe, watches him, feels like a total idiot. He glances over at her, this even look. "You gonna sit down or just stand there all night?"

She sets her glass on the table, slides into the space right next to him. "Thank you. For offering." It takes everything she has just to say it, to remember that this _is_ different, that he's not going to laugh. To forget that there was ever anything else but him.

He pulls her against him, lets out a breath against her hair. "You're welcome."

And just like that, it's done. She marvels at it a little, pressed against his side, how he can just let things go so easily, how dumb she was to forget that he's never going to offer her something today just so he can tear her down with it tomorrow.

He hands her his keys as she gets her coat on, kisses her on the forehead and she almost feels like she's shaking out of nerves when she says, "Um." He stops, turns to look at her and like, she is just such a total tool because him standing there in his jeans and t-shirt is just - basically, she wants to tackle him onto the kitchen counter so really, she needs to get a grip on herself. "You um. You still want to come with me?" It is like dumb as shit to be as nervous as she is, all he can do is say no and like, they're _sleeping_ together for god's sake, this is not a big deal, she is not asking him for weird kinky sex involving polar bears and wet suits here.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and she wants to tell him to forget it, it's stupid, she can seriously get there herself, it's just the _airport_ but he says, "Of course I-that's what I-Winnie, yes. Let's go."

He drives because she really does hate the 401 and she slumps in the seat next to him and okay, here's the thing, Melanie is an easy person to impress, she likes _everyone_ but Winnie just - Spike's important, is a thing she's starting to come to terms with. She wants her sister to like him, thinks that's probably what her whole weirdness was in the first place because what else could it have been?

Of course, on the way back, she doesn't know why she worried at all because Spike and Melanie are talking like they're old friends and she actually doesn't even need to be here whatsoever for them to have a conversation. She tastes this sharp, bright taste on her tongue, thinks it's probably relief. Spike carries Mel's suitcase inside and the three of them stand there, just chatting for a bit before he grins. "I should get going. Glad you got in safe, Mel. I'm sure I'll see you around in the next couple days. Have a good night, you two."

"Nice to finally meet you," Mel says, an answering grin on her face, does this thing with her eyebrows that Winnie catches right when she leaves to walk Spike back downstairs.

She kisses him goodbye before she leans on the door of the car, both of them talking through the open window.

"Go inside," he says with a laugh. "It's freezing."

"I'm going, I'm going." She just smiles at him, shakes her head before leaning forward to kiss him again. "I-thanks."

"Stop it," he says, gives her a look like he wouldn't mind giving her a shake. "You don't have to _thank_ me for stuff like that. I'll see you at work." He brushes a kiss across her knuckles. "Sleep well."

She's on the other side of the glass before he drives away and she's still smiling when she gets back upstairs. Mel takes one look at her and then whips a tissue box at her head. "Oh my god, the look on your face!" she crows.

Winnie rolls her eyes.

"He is like-he's so cute, I just don't even know what to do about it. Actual-boyfriend, I mean."

Winnie rolls her eyes again, fills the kettle even as Mel bounces on the couch on her knees.

"So?"

She glances back. "So what?"

Mel sighs like Winnie is possibly the stupidest person she's ever met. "So! How's it going?"

She smiles. "Good. It's good."

"And?"

"And...nothing."

Mel's just grinning at her, this silly dopey look that Winnie hopes never ever turns up on her own face. "You in love with him? You're totally in love with him. Tell me!"

She balks, nearly drops the mug in her hand. "Mel, it's been a _second_."

Mel just looks at her and then lets it go but Winnie doesn't really know how to let it go, thinks that it is completely absurd for her to be feeling anything like _love_, it hasn't been long enough. Plus he hasn't said anything about it and she's certainly not going to. And, in any case, the main point here is that it's way too soon, same as she told Dahlia.

* * *

Winnie learned her lesson about mixing groups of friends a long time ago, has no idea what it means that apparently she's hard-headed, is going to be sitting at a table with people she works with and her sister and her best friend in less than an hour. It's-it is just fucking bizarre.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Melanie asks holding a pair of leggings up to herself and then making a face. "Ugh, why don't you ever throw anything away? These are disgusting."

Winnie rolls her eyes. "Those are _yours_, you left them here last time. And nothing's wrong."

"Please. I can hear your breathing doing weird things from over here."

"It's really nothing." She forces herself to let out a slow breath, this stupid yoga breathing that she's never really gotten the hang of, four counts in, eight counts out. Or something.

"Okay well except you're full of shit so you can tell me or I can come over there and tickle it out of you."

"Don't even think about it!" Winnie exclaims, backing up.

Mel snorts, gives her this look like there's no way she's hot-footing it across the room, not for anything. "I could just ask Spike what your issue is. Tell him he needs to get you-"

"Okay, really? Is that all you think we do?" she huffs.

"I saw you two in the car, don't forget."

Winnie rolls her eyes, thinks about Spike giving her a ride home from work the night before and considering the more illicit things they've gotten up to in his car, Mel seeing a kiss goodnight really wasn't that big a deal. "We weren't even doing anything," she mutters witheringly.

"If you say so. So what is it?"

She fidgets a little, sinks down onto the bed, traces a pattern on the pillow. Wonders how she can bring this up without sounding like a neurotic crazy-person. "I don't know. Just. You don't think is going to be weird? You and Dahlia and then people I work with?"

Mel looks confused. "No? Really? Why would it be?"

"I don't know."

"You do realize that he isn't like Rob. And he's not going to-"

"I _know_ that." Sometimes, Mel is too shrewd for her own good, the younger sister who always acted older, even when they were kids, she was always Winnie's protector.

"Do you?"

"Of course I know that." Winnie's not an idiot, she is more than aware that Spike is not Rob (for starters, Rob was not nearly as good in bed, which is not a thing she is ever telling anyone ever, because it's mean).

Melanie looks at her, all concern and dark eyes and Winnie has to look down. "You know. Dahlia told me about that time at Real Sports. That's fucking embarrassing. You should have clocked him one."

Winnie would really like to tell her that it wasn't just one time, that it wasn't just at Real Sports Bar and it wasn't so much embarrassing as it was entirely humiliating but she doesn't see the point. "That's not going to happen."

"Yeah?"

"Spike wouldn't do that." And she's startled by how much she means it, how much she trusts it, even with no proof at all.

Mel raises her eyebrows at her. "As long as you know that."

They start walking, Mel chatting about her job, and Winnie's listening, she's just also thinking about how you can tell if someone's going to change - things started off great with Rob too and look how well that all turned out. So what the hell does she know about how to make things work when all the easy stuff has worn off? And then she can't remember if there was ever _easy_ with Rob.

She's fighting turning them both around and just going home the whole way there, until she sees Spike and then she wonders why she was worrying in the first place. He grins at her, waves at them both and Mel mutters something under her breath that Winnie totally ignores.

His hand's on her knee and he's talking to Leah who's on his other side and Winnie's half-listening to his conversation and half-listening to Dahlia and Mel who are talking about studded cuffs (for the life of her, Winnie can't figure out why), Jules agreeing and nodding her head.

And it's not quite as horrifying as she remembers mixing groups of friends to be. Probably helps that no one here hates anyone else.

Spike leans over, brushes his lips against her temple and her breath kind of catches and she wants to relax against him but she keeps thinking about the stupidest shit, this one time when she was a kid and her brother ripped the head off her Barbie doll because she threw one of his cars across the room, the time when Rob screamed at her in front of his entire division and no one said a fucking word about it (last Christmas party she ever went to), how she once trimmed Mel's bangs for her with a pair of pinking shears.

But it's like he seems to _know _and he just squeezes her knee, smiles that reassuring smile at her and she takes a deep breath, lets herself get back into the conversation. She watches him, how he smiles, how everything he says is so honest and how all the teasing words that come out of his mouth are never malicious and she finds herself smiling when everyone else cracks up laughing, even though she totally missed the joke. She catches a glimpse of Sam grinning at her, this look like possibly, he's bursting to say something but isn't going to.

When she gets up to go to the bathroom, Mel shoots to her feet, announces that she has to go too. Dahlia shakes her head at them both, this look like women going to the bathroom together is just so lame, pulls her seat closer to Jules who grins at her and they're both looking at something on Dahl's phone and laughing.

Mel talks to Winnie through the stall, one long stream of words running together until she comes out again, gives her this ridiculous smirk.

Winnie rolls her eyes. "What?"

"What what?"

"Melanie-"

"Okay, seriously, he's so cute, I might die. Which, I know I've said about a hundred times since I got here. But."

Winnie rolls her eyes again, nudges Mel out of the way with her shoulder so she can wash her hands. "Mm hm."

"Cause like, seriously, if he touches your hair one more time, I'm going to pass out."

"I'll be sure to tell him that," she deadpans. But also, yeah. Spike playing with her hair absent-mindedly, one hand resting on the back of her chair while he's talking. Not a thing she thinks he needs to stop doing any time soon.

"Shut up, don't you dare." Mel grins at herself in the mirror, pulls her hair up and looks critically at her jawline. "Do you think I should cut my hair? Like choppy layers?"

Winnie snorts, dries her hands. "If it's going to involve me hearing about how much you hate how short your hair is, please don't."

"You sleeping at your place tonight?"

"Uh, as opposed to where?"

Mel laughs. "Sorry. I should lay off the gin. Your boyfriend not getting antsy?"

"About what?"

"Not getting any. Unless the two of you are hooking up at work."

Not that the thought hasn't crossed her mind but it's something she's going to leave firmly in fantasy because it's unprofessional. Which is something that she has to remind herself every time Spike leans over her desk when he's in his uniform. "It's been two days."

"Don't pretend like you guys aren't still in that stage where you do it everywhere on every surface possible. I remember when Drew and I were like that. Then we got old and like, boring. Now I'm lucky if we do it on my birthday."

Winnie crosses her arms. "You're so full of shit."

Mel bursts out laughing. "Okay, okay. Good point though, right? Why don't you just go home with him tonight? I don't need to be babysat."

"You're not here for that long. I'd like to actually see you, if that's okay with you." Not that Winnie doesn't _want_ to go home with Spike - actually, she'd kind of like that a lot. But she's also kind of enjoying not having to _choose _between her boyfriend and her sister.

"You try and do a girl a favour. Fine."

She shakes her head but also, she's really missed having her sister around. "Are we done here?"

Mel swings the door open. "After you."

Winnie checks her phone quickly when they get back to the table, thinks she freezes when she sees the three missed calls and two texts but then resolutely forces herself to ignore it. She glances at Spike out of the corner of her eye. This isn't a thing she can hide forever and the longer it goes on-

Tonight. She's going to tell him tonight.

Spike drives them home and Winnie is drumming her fingers on her thighs the whole time, listens with half an ear to him and Mel chatting. Mel leans forward the second they pull into the apartment's driveway, snags they keys right out of Winnie's hand and says she'll meet her up there.

Spike grins at her. "Fun, right?"

"Fun," she agrees, thinks if he stops smiling at her, her whole heart will just collapse.

"Told you it would be fine."

"You did." So. Now's the time. She's going to tell him everything, even the parts she doesn't think she can get through. "Um." She clears her throat, thinks about how to bring up this whole situation with Rob, wonders where the beginning even is.

"So. What time are you guys leaving tomorrow?"

She stares at him. "I-uh. Wh-I think around one. Depends on when Mel can haul herself up."

He nods, looks like he wants to say something.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She raises an eyebrow. "Come on. What?" Because when he's done, it's her turn and she's not looking forward to it but-

"Really, nothing. Just. I'm uh. Going to miss you. I know it's only four days but." He shrugs.

She stares at him wordlessly. It's not like she's not going to miss him too (like, she already _does_, not being able to fall asleep without him next to her or his voice on the phone or something, she doesn't even know) but the way he just goes ahead and says stuff like that-it just floors her sometimes. It's like someone just went and poured something warm right into the pit of her stomach. And there's also no way she's bringing up Rob now. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

He rolls his eyes and then leans over and kisses her and she loves the way he kisses her and usually when it's just the two of them like this, she forgets every single thing. This time, though, she just has this gnawing guilt in her stomach and up her spine, only just tempered by the ache she feels whenever he touches her.

She thinks about that the next morning, buried in her closet looking for a dress Mel insists she left behind last time and she wonders how people know they're in something for the long haul, if they just wake up one day and _know_ or if it's a gradual thing. It's just – she doesn't have a whole ton of experience here, she was with Rob and then he decided they should move in together and that was that and she never had to think about her feelings for him because generally speaking, her feelings didn't matter.

"Is Spike coming with us?"

Winnie stands up so fast she nearly slams her head through the shelf above her. "What?"

"Is. Spike. Coming. With. Us?" Mel repeats.

"No, I heard you, I just thought-no of course not. He's working."

"So?"

She leans back down, tries to finish sorting through her clothes. "So, nothing."

"Mom knows about him right?"

"Of course she _knows_ about him," Winnie scoffs and then pauses. "At least - she knows I'm seeing someone."

"Seeing someone?" Mel echoes and then lets out a derisive snort. "Keeping it casual, are you? Both of you dating lots of other people?"

"No, it's just-"

"Yeah?"

Winnie thinks about how her mom barely tolerated Rob, pressed her lips into a thin line when Winnie told her she was moving in with him. Plus, there's the obvious. "We've been together for five minutes, I can't ask him to come up and meet my _mom_." She sighs, picks at the edge of her thumbnail. "What if she doesn't like him?"

"Why wouldn't she like him?"

Winnie shrugs. "She didn't like Rob." Which - it's an understatement. Rob hadn't liked her either, a thing he'd made abundantly clear and that's just a situation Winnie would prefer to avoid being in ever again.

"Talk about a good judge of character eh."

"Mel."

"All right, all right. Fine. You're the one who'll have to suffer through not seeing him."

Mel talks the whole bus ride up, until Winnie puts on her headphones and even then, she's not sure if Mel takes the hint or not. Rob sends her a text that Winnie deletes without looking at.

She brings in both their bags, Mel running into the house like it's a race, which is how she gets the bed in the spare room and Winnie the twin blow up mattress in the middle of the living room. Winnie snorts, "What are you, twelve?", drops her bag by the end of the mattress shaking her head, steps right into her mom's embrace.

"You look tired, Baby. You need to get more sleep."

Winnie laughs. "I've missed you too."

Her mom makes tea and they all sit at the table and talk about nothing (although, Winnie's pretty sure that her romantic history is just a step away from being laid all over the tabletop, this sideways grin her mom keeps shooting her and Mel has never been able to keep her mouth shut. Winnie figures the two of them have probably been discussing her in way too much detail).

"So. Win didn't want to bring her boyfriend," Mel says at dinner, spooning extra potatoes onto her plate.

Winnie glares at her.

"Boyfriend?" Her mom looks up like a dog scenting a bone.

Mel snorts, cuts into her chicken and says, "See?"

"Are we talking about that nice young man at your work?"

"Totally wore her down," Mel says around her food. She swallows. "This is great, by the way."

"Baby, you should have brought him along. He sounds very nice."

Winnie stares at her open-mouthed. "He sounds-you've never met him," she says with an incredulous laugh.

"Well whose fault is that?" Her mom huffs. "Melanie's told me all about-"

Winnie rolls her eyes. "Yeah well. I'm just going to murder your youngest daughter later, don't mind me."

Mel grins, keeps shovelling food into her mouth like she's just escaped from prison.

"Don't be dramatic, Winnie. I'm your mother. I should know these things."

"But-"

"Is it so wrong for a mother to want her children to be happy?"

"I'm very happy," Winnie mutters defiantly. She certainly doesn't need a _guy_ to make her happy (but he does. Like, a lot. It's stupid how much, sometimes). Spears a potato with her fork and takes a bite out of it, hopes the fact that her mouth is full is going to bar any questions.

Her mom is giving her what she obviously thinks are encouraging looks. "So? What's he like?"

"What's _who_ like?"

"Winnie."

"Mom."

Mel leans over and eats the peas off Winnie's plate. "He's nice, mom, you'd like him." Winnie makes a face at her.

"Well at this rate I'm never going to meet him. Honestly, what is it with you two girls? Is it serious?"

Mel scoffs as she helps herself to more salad, like parents always ask the stupidest questions ever and Winnie has to stifle a giggle, figures her mother sees right through her. "Mom, stop it. No one wants to hear about how serious their relationship is, it's just so-" Mel starts.

"What do you know, you're the one who's never going to give me grandchildren!"

Mel looks at Winnie for support. Winnie just raises her eyebrows in amusement. "Oh for the love of-"

"I don't know why you don't get married and have lots of kids, Melanie. You're not getting any younger."

Winnie wonders if she's the next one who's getting a talk about her biological clock, kind of hopes not. Except, then she can't help but think about kids. What Spike's like with kids. Looks around guiltily like they'll be able to tell what she's thinking about just from looking at her.

Mel sighs melodramatically. "Yeah, I've heard that before. Maybe we'll be really crazy and _never have any_."

Winnie clears her throat, shrugs at her mom. "She's just stubborn enough to do it."

"You're one to talk. How come you never let me meet your boyfriends?"

"Mom," Winnie complains with a grin. But really, she's thinking that they tried that one. And there haven't really been that many since.

Except later, when they're doing the dishes, Mel passed out on the couch, Winnie clears her throat. "I uh. Probably should have mentioned that-"

"That it was getting serious?" Her mom snickers. "Yes, you should have."

"Yeah well." She shrugs apologetically.

"He nice to you?"

Winnie flushes, is not appreciating the way her brain is showing her images of just _how_ nice Spike can be, clears her throat. "He's very nice."

"Good. You could use a nice boy for once. Someone to treat you well. For a change." And if that's not a dig at Winnie's taste in men, she doesn't know what is. There's a pause where she doesn't say anything, just watches her mother for a second, a one-woman machine, putting away all the leftovers and finishing the dishes, strong and pretty and great. "When are you going to let me meet him?"

She makes a face. "Would you complain about never?"

"Oh hilarious, Baby." She looks at her carefully. "You look happy. That's good." She clears her throat. "You ever hear from Rob?"

Winnie looks at her sharply. "Sometimes. It's nothing."

"And what does your new young man think of that?" This has got to be where Mel gets it from, that _knowing_ without Winnie saying one word.

"Nothing," she answers, just a shade too quickly.

Her mother raises her eyebrows, can probably tell what Winnie means, can probably read between all the lines of the things Winnie doesn't really say. "You've never told me why you two broke up."

"Wasn't working."

"You weren't happy, I know that much."

Winnie swallows, thinks this isn't a conversation she wanted to have when it happened and it sure isn't one she wants to have now. "I-"

"You've always played your cards close to your chest. It just got worse after you moved in with that boy." She says 'that boy' like she'd like to call him something else.

"Yeah well. I think we can all agree that was poor judgement," Winnie mutters. Wishes they were talking about anything else.

"Well. We have to be grateful for everything that happens to us. How it changes us. Don't we?" She dries her hands on a towel and then reaches out and smoothes Winnie's hair out of her face.

Winnie stares at her. "Have you been reading those New Age books again?"

"My funny daughter," her mom says with an eye roll. "So this Spike? He's different?"

Winnie knows she's smiling and she's really trying to stop. Thinks her mother probably sees right through her. "Completely. He's funny. Thoughtful. Really smart. He cooks. I just…" She shakes her head, thinks it's impossible to sum up all the things about him that make her smile, thinks it's something totally intangible that she can't even put her finger on.

Her mom has a ridiculous expression on her face, like she's going to combust from sheer excitement. "Okay Baby. I like all of that. Maybe Thanksgiving, you can bring him up here."

Winnie rolls her eyes, like Thanksgiving is _so_ far away, there's no way she's going to commit to that. But also. She thinks about making plans that far away with Spike, wonders what he'd say, if the answer would be yes. Wishes she had the courage to find out.

She calls him when she's lying on the air mattress thinking that there's got to be a hole in it and that she might really wake up in the morning flat on the ground.

"Hey!"

She finds herself smiling, grinning into the darkness, the sound of his voice all familiar, how he sounds happy to hear hers. "Hey."

"How's it going up there?"

"Good. Um. Yeah. It's good. How was work?"

He snorts, starts telling her about Jules tripping over her own boots because Leah put something gummy on the bottoms and she almost doesn't hear what he's actually saying, just content to listen to his voice. They talk about nothing and he makes silly voices into the phone, imitations of people they know and she has to muffle her giggles with the edge of the blanket (he does a killer impression of Ed, actually).

"Spike?"

"Mm?"

"I uh. I just. I kinda wish you were here." Her face flames red and it feels like she's just leapt right over a crack in a canyon.

She can hear him smiling on the other end of the phone. "Me too. Maybe next time I'll come with you."

She raises her eyebrows at that, wonders about it, wonders what it would be like, not being in the middle of two people she loves. "Maybe you should." Not that she like, _loves_ him. It's just-it's a figure of speech.

He stifles a yawn but she hears it, can pretty much picture him lying in his bed with one arm behind his head, hair already all messy. Has this sudden fierce longing to kiss him.

"I should let you go," she says regretfully.

"I miss you," he says abruptly. "And like. I realize that I just saw you yesterday. But. I do."

She swallows, stares up at the ceiling. "Me too," she breathes.

He laughs. "Yeah? Say it." Like they're in elementary school, 'I dare you to do it'.

The words stick in her throat and she has to clear it a few times. "I miss you," she confesses and that hint of joking they had a second ago? Gone now. She's serious and she's _scared_ and she wants to tell him that she's trying to give him everything, trying to _be_ everything so that she doesn't screw this up and she's not sure if she's winning or losing at it.

"Winnie…I lo-look, it's uh, it's late. I should let you go. Let you sleep. I uh." He huffs. "It's lonely here without you."

It takes her a long time to fall asleep. She thinks about loneliness for the longest time, wonders what it means that she didn't even know she was lonely until he kissed her for the first time.

Wonders what it means that she pictures her future and all she sees for sure is him.


	17. Chapter 17

Spike comes with her to drop Melanie at the airport and as Mel chatters on from the backseat about fifty pounds and how these people don't take into account a girl's shopping and if she's paying for a bag, how come it can't weigh sixty or seventy pounds or, for that matter, a hundred, Winnie glances at Spike and snickers and he grins at her, shakes his head and she grins harder as she turns in her seat to talk to her sister.

Mel drops her hand luggage on the ground, right before she gets in the security line, throws her arms around Winnie's neck, breathes hard against her shoulder like she's going to cry.

"Love you," Winnie says, takes a deep breath in through her nose, misses her little sister already. "Tell that boyfriend of yours he should come with you next time."

Mel sniffles. "He wanted to come this time. But he had work and plus, I'd have had to entertain him."

Winnie rolls her eyes, really doubts most of the things Melanie says about the poor guy. She's grinning though, thinking about how happy Mel looks when she talks about him. "Yeah yeah. Have a good flight." She takes in a deep breath. "Take care of yourself."

"You too." Mel punches her lightly on the arm and then reaches over to hug Spike and Winnie has no idea what the two of them are saying but she sees Spike nodding and Mel claps him on both shoulders and then grins at him. "And you, Spike. I'm glad I _finally_ got to meet you." She arches her eyebrow at Winnie. Winnie just sighs at that, raises her eyebrow back.

Spike grins and Winnie wonders if it's possible to get used to the way he smiles or if it's just always going to be a thing that makes her smile too.

"Yeah me too. Have a good flight, Mel," he says, laces his fingers with Winnie's as they watch Melanie join the back of the line.

He squeezes her hand when Mel's disappeared from view and Winnie feels the way she did when Mel first left, like her heart's clenching hard right inside her chest. "You okay?"

She shrugs at him, smiles even though it feels a little forced. "Yeah. It's how it goes, right? Can't have her stay forever."

And he gives her this look like that may be the case but that it doesn't mean she shouldn't _want_ her sister to stay forever, pushes a piece of hair out of her face and smiles at her and she feels something inside her ease, just a little, a piece of that sadness disappearing.

They walk back to the car slowly, Spike pressing his lips against her cheek every few steps and she grins up at him (told the absolute truth when she said she missed him), leans against his car door. "So. Can I come over?"

He snorts, gives her this look she doesn't completely understand, like she's just asked the stupidest question ever, one she didn't need to ask at all. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Kind of hoped you were gonna."

She laughs, pulls him to her by the front of his shirt and he steps forward willingly, right into her space, faces inches apart. "Mm, well, I do have to reorganize my closet now that Mel's gone-"

He rolls his eyes, cuts her off by kissing her on the mouth, gathers her close to him and gets his hands on her jaw, kisses her until she doesn't even remember they're at the _airport_ of all places.

She's missed this too, his lips on hers, his fingers brushing against her neck. She's also missed the way he holds her hand in the car, right over her thigh, how he glances over at red lights and grins at her.

Later, when they should both be sleeping but aren't and he's running his fingers idly across her back and her chin's resting on his chest and they're laughing about something stupid, Winnie thinks that she finally understands why people sign on for this even when it's not easy. He tugs lightly on her hair and then touches her cheek and more than understanding why people sign on for this when it's not easy, she thinks she also understands why people _choose_ to sign on for this, why they make the choice every single day.

She just never realized that staying was a choice, that it shouldn't be wasted on someone who didn't deserve it. Never realized how much more it would count for when she made the choice to do something rather than the choice to do nothing.

It's like everything she thought she knew about relationships was completely wrong, like everything she experienced up until this point wasn't right and-

The bottom line is - it just feels like she understands something she didn't quite understand before.

* * *

A couple weeks later, Spike wakes up before her, turns off his alarm before it gains too much volume. Winnie hears him getting dressed, hears a thump and a muffled curse and calls out that he should put on the light, only it comes out sounding like she's just said something in another language and she hears him laughing softly at her. She feels his lips brush against her cheek and she raises her arm, tries to pull him back towards her.

He laughs against her hair. "I have to go."

"No," she mutters sleepily. "Too early. Come back here."

"There's cream in the fridge," he says softly and she can feel him smiling against her skin. "I'll see you later."

She thinks she says something else that makes absolutely no sense and she's barely aware of the kiss he presses to her lips even as she drowsily kisses him back before he pulls the blankets up around her.

She lies there dozing for a couple hours, trying to get as warm as she was before Spike left and when her alarm goes off, the sun's only just starting to rise and she gets dressed in the dark, brushes her teeth and washes her face squinting against the bathroom light. She's got a pile of makeup on the side of his sink, hair elastics and her face moisturizer and she pauses for a second, looking at the way he's stacked up all the bottles in order of size before shaking her head and grinning to herself.

She yawns the entire time she's waiting for the coffee to brew (possibly they were up a little late last night and while Spike seems totally able to turn off and on his tiredness like there's a switch for it, Winnie needs her coffee or she'll spend half the day slurring) and then has to fight with the new container of cream to get the plastic tab off. Also something she pauses at because as far as she knows, Spike doesn't take cream in his coffee. Which means that's there purely for her. She stirs her mug absent-mindedly, can't actually remember the last time she was here and had to take her coffee with no cream.

It uh – makes her smile. A lot.

Also. She smiles the whole streetcar ride there. Gets a seat too. Guesses that no one wants to deal with the chick grinning at nothing.

But then she gets to work and just like that, her morning's on a downward spiral. Winnie almost wants to let out a moan of pain when she sees him.

Rob looks like he hasn't showered or shaved in days, hair greasy and no coat. His eyes are bloodshot to shit and she can smell stale booze from where she's standing. But also, because she thought that she'd actually never have to see him again this time and she feels really stupid for letting that cross her mind at all. "What are you doing here?" Yeah, she's not going to win any prizes for originality.

He slurs out something she can't even understand.

"You should go home. Get some sleep."

"Sleep? Can't sleep. Especially now. Need you."

She closes her eyes briefly. "Rob, seriously. You can't do this." She can be strong. She can tell him no more.

"I need you. I need you to come back to me. I'm different now. I've changed."

She raises her eyebrows, doesn't comment on the obvious. "Go home." She turns around, hand on the door, doesn't want to look at him anymore, doesn't want to think about all the ways that she caused-

"Please don't just _walk away_ from me." He sounds so desperate, it makes her stomach hurt. "Not again."

She wants to drop her head against the side of the building, maybe knock herself out so she doesn't have to listen to him. And also, she wants to knock _him_ out, and then she feels so guilty for even thinking it at all, like what kind of a person is she? She opens and closes her mouth, tries to think of something to say and can't think of one fucking thing.

"I still care about y-"

"What?" she wheels around and stares at him, afraid for a second that she's going to start laughing out of sheer horror.

"Win-"

She leans forward and hisses, "Stop it. I _work_ here, Rob. You can't seriously be thinking of causing a scene here! You can't! Please, just leave, go home. Sleep it off. Whatever." There's a cold sweat sitting on the very top of her skin.

He glares at her and she sees the person who used to scream and slam doors and throw things, the person she was afraid of bringing out nearly the entire time they were together. He opens his mouth to say what, she can't even imagine, thinks it'll be bad, the kind of thing that-

"Problem here?"

She freezes immediately, her heart jumping violently in her chest, pastes a smile on her face before looking up at Ed. "Nope. No problem." So, the fake upbeat tone is not something she can make sound natural. Would have been good to know before she tried it out.

Ed is glancing between the two and she knows she flushes red when he gives her this look like she's full of shit before he leans forward. "Okay." He crosses his arms.

Rob is still glaring at her like she's the reason there's no possibility of world peace, turns to Ed with a sneer. "_Constable_ Lane. Good to see you again. Was just trying to get some answers."

Winnie swallows hard, feels like she could die of embarrassment for him. Trying to pull rank? With _Ed_? Of all people. Also wouldn't mind dying of embarrassment herself, like Ed outranks her by a billion positions and he's been her direct report a time or two before and-

Ed smiles pleasantly, only Winnie knows him and she really doubts that he's feeling too pleasant right now and honestly, if she had to take a bet on who'd win, her money would be on Ed, no questions. Even if Rob wasn't drunk. "Probably not likely to find them at our front doors, Detective."

She looks pleadingly at Rob who looks between the two of them before he lets out a rude noise, shakes his head and then turns around. She watches him until he disappears out of the parking lot, doesn't know if she wants to turn and face Ed or not, is wondering if she can somehow avoid it altogether.

"Friend of yours?"

"No!" She clears her throat. "No. We just-" Wonders how in the hell she's supposed to explain Rob to Ed if she can't even explain him to herself. "Um, I should-" she makes an awkward motion towards the door. Just wants to be out of this situation, is seriously cursing Ed's timing right now, even if she's grateful for it at the same time.

"You okay?"

"Fine." She fixes another fake smile on her face that she kind of thinks he sees right through. Fucking SRU, seriously, sometimes she doesn't understand why she didn't just become a-

"You sure?" Also, all his concern is making her feel about a thousand times worse.

"Ed, I'm fine."

He nods slowly at her, probably sees something in her face that he's trained to look for because then he says, "He been bothering you?"

She doesn't even know how to begin answering that question. "I'm handling it."

He looks mildly amused for a second before all the seriousness bleeds back in. "You need me to deal with it?"

"What? No!" The idea is horrifying. Probably worse than horrifying. She takes a breath. "It's nothing. Really nothing."

He doesn't mention Spike but it's a thing that hangs there between them as he holds the door open for her, as they walk inside, get in the elevator and ride it up in silence.

Right when the doors open he says, "You know, Winnie - it's not just Team One that I care-"

"Ed, it's seriously nothing. But um." She clears her throat. "Thanks." She hopes he can tell that she's not just blowing him off, that she really is touched by where he was going to go with that sentence.

Spike's waiting by the desk when she comes out of the locker room, smiling at her like she's Christmas and she just stares right at his dimple, can't believe that he's so happy just about looking at her. "Just wanted to say hi."

Possibly, she feels even worse than before, because it's not just her happiness that's hanging on top of Rob and his foolish actions now. Not just her happiness that's riding along in time to her own poor decisions. She glances around before she leans up, kisses him really quick, even though they're already on shift. "Hey."

"You okay?"

She forces a smile. "Of course." Uh, no actually. Not okay. Wants to get rid of all this weight she's carrying around, this fear that Ed's going to mention something before she can, how she'd explain it if he did.

"Did you fall back asleep?" He grins, leans closer to talk to her and she inhales his scent, how it's all mixed together with the uniform and really, she needs to have her head examined because this is not a thing that should continually render her speechless.

"No, I got too cold without you." It's stupid, he smiles at her and she hears his voice and like, her mood is a hundred times better (Rob's still there though, right behind her right eye like a pounding migraine).

He laughs. "Maybe I can spend all day tomorrow keeping you warm." His tone is all suggestive and seriously, how did she miss the fact that he'd talk to her like that and her underwear would just be a lost cause? Moreover, how did she miss the fact for _so many years_, like, what was she even looking at, she doesn't even know.

"Such a cheese ball," she says but she's grinning at him, thinks that sounds pretty fucking close to perfect, actually.

"You're not complaining."

"No. No, I'm not." In fact, she kind of wishes they'd both called in sick today, just stayed inside and done nothing in particular, just the two of them.

She stares up at him, how his eyes are all warm, just looking at her and she knows that he needs to know. And beyond all of that, she wants to tell him. Wants him to be the one person she tells everything to, that she doesn't have to hide from – and she can't do that if he doesn't know the whole story. "Can we get dinner later?" she blurts out.

"Obviously. Italian?"

She smiles up at him, has to swallow a few times to get the words out. "Sounds perfect." She squeezes his hand hard. "Okay. Go. Do your job."

He smiles back at her but there's concern written all over his features. "Uh. Okay. See you later."

She sits down at her desk and scrubs at her face with her hands, presses the heels of her palms into her eyes. She's going to tell him, is what she tells herself. Tonight. She's going to tell him the whole entire sad story and she's going to be honest and open. She's going to talk to him.

She worries about what she's going to say all shift, has started plotting out a rough sketch like this is a paper and she's going to need a thesis statement (which, pretty much, at this point is, 'I don't know when enough's enough and by the time it was, I couldn't just leave'), pictures and diagrams or something, maybe. And then she spends several hours worrying that if she makes too big a deal of this, it's going to sound like a _big_ deal and it isn't. It's not. It is not a big deal. Like she doesn't want to make it sound like it's something when it's nothing.

Rob's not important to her, not anymore, not like how he was. There's nothing between them, not for her.

She runs her fingers through her ponytail, pulls it over one shoulder and then rubs at her forehead. God, it's not a big deal. It's so not a big deal.

(It's kind of a big deal. It's just – when she plays the scene out in her head, how everything's going to go, it all ends with Spike either getting up from the table because he can't look at her or looking at her like he can't believe who she is. And she'd understand, she would. The kind of person who walks away when someone needs her, who causes them more pain when all they need is for her to save them. The kind of person who sees someone drowning in front of her, reaches her hand out and slaps the drowning person away.)

He takes her to their usual place, pasta on College like how his Ma makes it. They get all the way to dessert and she still hasn't said one word about Rob, hasn't said any of those things she was planning on saying. He keeps making her laugh, telling her about how his mother really does want to meet her and she should just come with him in May (she is like ninety-eight percent sure he's joking but then his face gets all serious and she's not sure, not at all, no idea when that stage they were talking about starts or ends) and how Leslie keeps bugging him about her and maybe they should all hang out this weekend and every time he says something that she wants to hear, even though she tells herself that she doesn't _need_ to hear it, she finds it harder and harder to hold onto her resolve.

She doesn't want to be the Debbie Downer of this whole evening, doesn't want to be the reason he stops looking at her with his eyes all crinkled. Doesn't want to be the reason that dimple disappears.

So. She says nothing. And half of her hates herself for it and the other half is just caught up in him and in them, the way she feels when she's with him, like she's as decent a person as he is, like she's never been anything but, not ever.

As soon as they get in the car, she leans over and kisses him, pulls him closer to her by the back of his neck, gets her hands running through his hair.

He laughs into her mouth, tries to ease her back but she feels like she's on borrowed time, like there's just no way she'll get to _keep_ this. "Hang on a sec-hey, hey. Come on, what is it?" His hands are on either side of her face and he's just looking at her, eyes gazing into hers and she just doesn't even know, has never felt like this in her entire life. Like she would do _anything_ for this person's happiness and that even by doing that anything, she's not going to have to compromise who she is.

"I uh. I should." She clears her throat hard. She has to tell him right now or she's never going to. "My ex has-"

"That's what's got you so upset?" One of his thumbs is stroking gently against her cheek.

She takes a deep breath, is ready, finally ready, has made her peace with how it's going to change everything. "Yeah. I. Yeah. He's uh. He's been-"

"Win, it's okay. It's okay. You don't have to-I don't care what happened. I just-" He presses a kiss against her cheekbone. "I'm just-I lo-I mean." He coughs. "I don't want you to do anything that you don't want to do."

She's thinking about how, after she tells him that Rob has been calling her, she's going to say that he's just not well. She doesn't want to vilify him. "But I should probably-"

"No shoulds," he says, smiles reassuringly at her. "Only what you want to do. Okay?"

She stares at him with her heart somewhere in her throat, finds it hard to swallow.

He's giving her an easy out here.

And it's shameful and she's not proud of it but.

She takes it.

"Okay." Forces a smile. Wonders why she doesn't feel a thousand times better about this situation.

Spike drives them home and it's funny but it still feels like something's off, like she still needs to _tell_ him, even though he gave her that out but also, that feeling like home is wherever he is, she wants to keep that, and they kick off their shoes and she snuggles close to him on the couch, sets his perfectly-folded blanket over their legs and tries not to feel like she just dodged a bullet only to look up and see an arrow soaring towards her.


	18. Chapter 18

AN: I'm so incredibly grateful for anyone who's taken the time to read this and also, anyone who's done anything with that bit at the bottom of the screen where you can check off boxes and write stuff. I'd like to send you cookies (obviously, chocolate chip) but since that's largely unfeasible - here's chapter 18.

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It turns out that Winnie doesn't so much as dodge a bullet – it's more like she's holding the gun herself.

It's stupid. It's so incredibly stupid.

It starts off with Spike having the day off, the two of them getting a little too busy and expending a little too much energy before Winnie's alarm goes off. She kind of expects him to fall back asleep but he's up with her at the crack of dawn and like, she knows he's a morning person but when she comes out of the bathroom, he already has her coffee waiting for her.

She sits on the counter in his kitchen and he bites at her neck, makes her laugh before she regretfully pushes him away, saying, "I have to go." Doesn't want to go at all.

"Five more minutes. I'll drive you." Shoots her that smile.

And she doesn't see the point in him being awake, in clothes and out on the road on his day off but also, five minutes more kissing him and having him run his fingers up under her shirt? Yeah. If he doesn't drive her, she's going to be late.

"I'll come back and get you after shift," he says with a grin. "Cheap Tuesday? I know how you like your movie theatre popcorn."

"You don't have to-"

"I offered," he reminds her gently and she huffs but nods slowly. She's getting used to the fact that him offering things that she doesn't think she can repay are not things that he expects her to repay. (Also, she really does like movie theatre popcorn, even though the last time, he regretfully told her that the smell was purely chemical and if she wanted, he could probably recreate it in the kitchen.)

She kisses him on the lips, gets out of the car and then ducks back in, smacks a kiss on his cheek that makes him laugh. She grins at him, waves from the front doors and walks into HQ with a completely ridiculous smile on her face that Pete feels it necessary to comment on.

"Have a nice start?" he asks slyly.

She rolls her eyes at him. "Good morning," she says (it's just - okay, so she was trying to downplay her mood a little but that just came out way too chirpy).

His eyebrows are high on his forehead and he still has that evil little smirk on his face. "You look like it certainly is."

She shrugs, does her best to ignore him. "Well we couldn't all start it off at the desk."

"It looks like _you_ started it off in-"

"Pete!" she complains but she's also laughing and the stern tone she was trying for kind of gets lost in it.

He stretches, grinning widely. "Team Five's still out but they're wrapping up and should be back pretty soon. Is the smell of this going to bother you if I throw it out here?" He gestures to the remains of his dinner which was probably, at one point, some kind of sandwich and at her disgusted look, bursts out laughing. "Okay okay. I'll take it outside with me."

"Always so thoughtful," she calls over her shoulder as she heads in the direction of the locker room. "Definitely your best quality!"

The first couple hours of her shift are quiet, Spike sending her these little messages that keep making her laugh and even when things pick up a few hours later, she waits for those free seconds when she can text him back, has to duck behind her monitors to do it because she knows she's got a stupid grin on her face.

And then, like all colossal fuck ups, the crash starts with a very slow, downward twist.

Rob calls her, a disgusting mess of slurring and desperation and she feels her heart rising into her throat at how much pain he's in. She can barely understand him, the alternating between mumbling and what she thinks might be tears, how she keeps hearing crashes in the background. He doesn't bring up that night but the whole time she's sitting there trying not to cry at her desk and he's telling her how everyone leaves him, how no one understands him the way she does, how he needs to see her? Yeah, that night's all she's thinking about.

She's torn, this part of her that wants to hang up and forget and the part of her that can't, torn between what feels right and what she knows is right, this feeling like she's caught between dealing with her past and living in her future. Between her guilt and her own desire to be happy. It's right there, right in her grasp and all she has to do is tell Rob that she can't be what he needs her to be. Because she can't be and not just for her own sanity.

Which is not a thing she thinks she should tell him over the phone, not with his track record.

So she agrees. And yes, it's reluctantly and every cell in her body is screaming at her but she agrees. That's not the mistake she makes though.

The mistake she makes is texting Spike and telling him that something came up and she's got to see Dahlia after work and she'll call him when she's done.

She's not a complete idiot (although, it _is_ up for debate), insists that if Rob really wants to talk, he'll meet her at Starbucks (not that anything like being in public or other people watching ever stopped him from sharing his real feelings before. But). She picks one that isn't the closest one to HQ, figures that no one she knows will actually be at it and tells herself that this really is going to be the last time. Promises herself that she'll get home and tell Spike exactly where she was and who she was with and why, that she'll tell him why it went on for so long and that it's over.

Still though. Road to hell and all of that. The point is that she lies - for fucking _Rob_ who is so not even remotely worth it and that's what she's thinking about the whole walk over there, it's what she thinks about in the line to get her coffee and it's what she thinks about when Rob looks up from where he's already waiting for her. It's what she thinks about the whole time he's talking, the whole time she's sitting there listening.

She gazes at him and wonders what in the hell she ever saw in him in the first place.

She's slowly realizing that Rob's going to take everything that she's willing to give and that the only way it'll ever stop is if she's the one who puts a stop to it. It's just – so, possibly, she's looking down the road at Thanksgiving and Christmas and coffee on her days off and Wednesday nights with the news on in the background while she reads some of those books Spike has on IEDs and he rests his arm around her and kisses her and she doesn't want any lies stacked on top of each other. Doesn't want to look into those eyes and know that he's taking everything she's saying at face value and that she'll have to respond by finding a way to keep her stories straight.

No. She wants to be better than that.

She thinks about giving and giving and giving to someone who only ever wanted to take things from her, how very unhappy she was for so long, no idea how to change it or make things right and when Rob's done talking and he's sniffling, she takes a deep breath.

"You can't keep doing this," she says quietly. Laces her fingers together so she has something to hold onto and shakes her head at him. "It's too much - I'm not your girlfriend. We're not even friends."

"I don't have anyone else to call," he says, looks her right in the eye and she doesn't know if she's ever seen so much misery in one person.

She clamps down on her tongue with both sets of teeth so that she doesn't say something like 'well whose fault is that'. Thinks that maybe she's the thing that's changed here because a year ago, she'd have been scared that a part of it was her fault and it would have broken her down. She's still scared that a part of it is her fault – thing is, she knows now that she can't take things back, can't undo them, knows that getting dealt a shitty hand sucks but not trying to change it? That's a choice that someone makes.

She knows now that the way her life is going to go is up to her.

"You're the only one who understands. The only one I can talk to."

She shakes her head at him. "I can't be that for you, Rob. You can't keep calling me and expecting me to-"

"Winnie, I don't have anything else! There's no one else I can go to! No one else I can even talk to about everything I-"

"I tried to help you," she interrupts, tries to stay unemotional. "I tried to be there for you and I can't do it anymore. It was over years ago. It's still over."

"I'm still in love-"

"I swear to god! Don't finish that sentence." She wonders what in the hell it is about the two of them that they've always brought out the very worst in each other, just doesn't like the person she is when she's with him, how it feels like she's playing a part.

"But-"

"I don't care!" Vaguely, she's aware that this isn't going to help him, that if anyone ever wants to know who the smaller person was in this situation, all fingers will point at her. "I don't care. I don't _care_ about how you feel. I'm done. We are done. You want help? Call your mother, call a friend, I don't give a shit who you call, just as long as it's not me!" She's a little out of breath after that, thinks she's overstepped. (Also knows that Rob wouldn't have understood unless she did.)

He stares at her with this hurt expression on his face, eyes kind of glazed and she wants to simultaneously cry for him and throw something at him.

She scrubs her hands over her face. "Rob. This isn't helping you. _I'm_ not helping you."

"But-" He stops himself and there's a pause before he speaks again. "You said you'd always be there for me." There's a very faint hint of accusation there.

She sighs. "I did say that," she acknowledges. Because she'd been too young then, idiotic thoughts about love that had all turned out to be wrong and she'd said all kinds of shit that she hadn't understood the meaning of until she'd already said them. So. She can't really blame him for sounding the way he does. "But I can't do it anymore."

"We can't even be friends?"

She sees it for the line it is, just shakes her head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"But we've-"

"It's not a good idea," she says again.

He takes in this deep shuddering breath, looks at her and she doesn't know if she's ever seen that expression on his face, like he feels _bad _for her, like he understands what she went through trying to be what he needed. "You really happy with that guy? You in love with him?"

"I'm really happy with him," she says softly. Doesn't know what it means that she can tell everyone else who asks her that that it's been a second, that it's too soon, that it's not _like that_ but when her ex-boyfriend asks her the same thing- "And. And yeah. Yeah. I'm in love with him." Feels this jolt when she says it like duh, Jesus, how could she be so blind, of course she is, of course she feels this way, it's the only thing that makes sense, the only thing that explains wanting to make him happy, willing to do anything to put that smile on his face, sleeping over (it's really not his fucking sheets, not at all), waking up with him and feeling like everything in the world could make sense. It's like one of those optical illusions, like she stared at it so long, she missed the big picture. She swallows. "And I need you to stop. I want you to stop." Kind of thinks life's a funny thing, that she's finally grown a pair, how late in the game it is. How it took having more to lose for her to realize all the things she _could_ lose.

Rob swallows, looks like he's going to cry. Doesn't. "You love him more than you loved me?"

She wants to roll her eyes. Doesn't. "It's different." God, is it different.

He looks away from her. "I just-Winnie, I. Okay. I-okay." He clears his throat. "You've changed." Like he's just observing something.

What can she say to that? "Maybe." Thing is, she doesn't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for Rob, if he hadn't helped to break her down so that she could find her way back up. Wonders if she would still have wanted a chance with the guy who made her laugh, if she would have noticed him sooner. If she wouldn't have noticed him at all. Or would it have been one of those things that was inevitable? Like no matter what road she'd chosen to walk down, she'd have found her way to him. She doesn't know. Is really glad she doesn't have to find out.

Rob rubs at the spot between his eyebrows, keeps looking at her like he doesn't even know her. "I uh." He clears his throat, inhales and runs his hand over his mouth. "So. Guess if I call you from now on, you're just going to ignore it, huh?" It sounds like he's joking but she sees the way his eyes flick away from her and back again.

She just keeps looking at him, really hopes he's not going to attempt to find out.

"So this is how it's going to be? You're just going to-"

"You raise your voice to me and I'm done here," she says calmly. Rob stares at her and she stares right back.

He's the one who looks away first and she wonders if he's thinking about all the times she was the one who looked away first. She's wondering if she'll have to follow through on that threat, if that's the kind of ending she's going to make here.

He swallows. "I uh. I don't know what to say."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "About what?"

"No one else understands-"

"Rob. Don't guilt me." She's got enough of that all on her own, doesn't need any more of it from him. "Don't you think it would be better if someone stuck around because they wanted to? Not because they-I don't know. They felt bad?"

He doesn't answer her and they sit there in silence and she wonders if this is an impasse or if this is what it could have come to years ago if she'd stopped being paralyzed by fear sooner.

"Guess I should go then."

There's still a part of her that wants to save him. Takes a lot to admit to herself that she doesn't wear tights and cape, that there's no way she can. That there probably never was. She thinks of all the things he wanted from her, that he'd still take from her if she let him. And then she thinks about Spike, about how he does things like wake up early on his days off and how he buys things he doesn't need and cares about the people that she cares about just because she cares about them. Kind of feels like her heart is doing a little dance right inside her chest. She thinks about worrying if he'll get sick of seeing her face, worrying if she's in his space too much, worrying that she's going to do something to make it end – it's just, even with all of that worry, she'd still choose to be with him.

Rob gets up, leans over, one hand on her neck and kisses her right at the corner of her mouth (and like, okay, she's totally shocked and a little horrified and it's too soft and lingering and he smells all wrong and he's not _Spike_ and she has to push him back by his shoulder, has to lean her face away from him. Opens her mouth to ask him what in the fuck he thinks he's doing. Closes it. There's just no point trying to reason with him).

"If it makes a difference – I'm sorry."

It doesn't, actually. "You should get help," she says. "You should be able to be happy."

He doesn't smile. "Closest I got was you."

And then he leaves and she sits there for fifteen minutes staring into space, thinks that at one point in her life, that would have been enough for her and how much of her life she could have wasted living that way. And all she hopes is that maybe, Spike feels the way about her that she feels about him.

She calls him as soon as she steps outside, suddenly so eager to hear his voice, so eager to see him and touch him and kiss him that she almost trips over her words. He sounds off, kind of distant and she pauses at that.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

She rolls her eyes, doesn't need any kind of SRU training whatsoever to hear all the stuff loaded behind that one. "Spike-"

"Okay. I just don't want to talk about it. Okay?"

"I don't-"

"I think actually that tonight's not a good night. Can we just see each other at work tomorrow?" He hangs up before she can reply and she's left with this horrific sinking feeling like something's ending and she doesn't know why.

* * *

Spike doesn't stop by her desk the next morning. Doesn't wave at her. Doesn't even look at her. She can tell that everyone else coming into contact with him wants to ask what in the hell is going on (she does too, actually) but he's not usually moody like this and she's more concerned than anything else. Worried about him, rather than about them.

She's jumpy the entire shift, worried, brain going two hundred kilometres an hour and she doesn't understand what the hell's going on. He takes so long to come out of the locker room that all of Team One's gone by the time Sid gets there (all of them giving her these sympathetic looks, like uh oh, Spike in a mood and she's got to deal with him, have a good time with that one, Winnie) and she bypasses the women's locker room and goes right into the men's.

He's sitting on the bench hunched over, locker still open, his bag open on the floor next to him.

"What's going on?" Her voice echoes, louder than she'd expected it to be. She tempers it down with difficulty. "Are you okay?"

He clears his throat, doesn't turn around.

"Spike?"

He lets out a sigh, glances at her. "Hey."

She almost takes a step back. It's just – he's never looked at her like that before. Like he'd like to just shove right past her, leave her standing there, like he doesn't really want to be looking at her at all.

"I uh. Have a good time last night?"

She can't read anything in his tone, has never heard him sound so neutral. "Not really," she says slowly. "I'd rather have been with you."

He slams his locker closed and she jumps. "Don't do that," he warns. "Don't."

"Do what?" What in the hell is happening here? She wants to ask him if he's had some kind of personality transplant in the past thirty-eight hours.

He lets out a breath. "I think that we should…take a break."

She can't help it - she laughs, claps her hand over her mouth. "Sorry I just-what?"

He won't meet her eyes.

She's still snorting at how dramatic he's being, is trying to cover up how worried she is, how out of character he's acting. "Okay this isn't an episode of Dawson's Creek, what the hell-"

"What the hell? What the hell?" He's _angry_, she suddenly realizes, the Spike that lost his best friend in a freak accident, his father to stubbornness, bright, hot anger and she's almost mesmerized, has never seen it directed at her, not once, not ever, has seen him sad and frustrated and happy and loud but never like this. "I can't _do_ this with you. I can't just-" He stops, swallows hard. "I need to think."

She wants to ask him what he suddenly has to think about but what comes out is, "_Why_?"

He looks at her and she feels a physical pain in her chest when he tells her what he saw (and yes, he's _wrong_ but she can't stop him, can't say anything that will save either one of them, words frozen somewhere at the very back of her throat), that she lied to him and he never lied to her, not once, that he waited and waited for her and thought that once he finally got to be with her, it would be easy. That he trusted her. And that worse than that, he just doesn't know where he stands with her, has no idea if she's even on the same page as him and he can't just stand around _hoping_ that one day-

She stands there like an idiot, has this sensation like she's floating and not in a good way, has no idea what she's saying but she answers his questions and then tries to explain, stumbles all over her words, tries to tell him that she _can_ explain, that it's not the way he thinks it is, that there's only him-

"Please stop." His voice is soft.

She shuts up immediately, even though she knows he doesn't understand.

"I um. I can't have this conversation right now." Even when he's pissed, he still sounds so_ polite_.

"Are you breaking up with me?" She has no idea why she asks it, she knows the answer, knows what she'd do if she were him but she can't just stand here and not say anything, not when he's so wrong, not when she can see that he's _angry _and it's because of her and-

He makes a face at her, looks like himself for a second and then he's gone again. "I just need to think. I uh. I'm going to go." Picks up his bag and leaves.

She stands there unmoving until the door swings shut, until she can no longer hear his footsteps outside and then she raises her trembling fingers to her mouth and tries to take a deep breath. Knows that all of this? All of it is her fault.

She stands in the men's locker room until Paul from Team Two comes in, jokingly asks her if she's lost.

She doesn't know how to answer that question.


	19. Chapter 19

AN: If this story were a tunnel, I'd be seeing the light at the other side - in a good way. Because we're gearing up for the end! Not yet, but soon.

Anyone who has read this, I tip my largely imaginary hat to you and if you have taken the time to review (also, if you were anonymous and I couldn't reply and clog up your inbox the way I do to the registered users...), thank you so very much. I could get very excessive with my gratefulness and go on and on about owing you lots of coffee and cookies which are my favourite things _ever_ but I'll stop myself before we get there.

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* * *

Winnie wanders into the women's locker room like it's the first time she's ever set foot inside it, ears ringing, changes her clothes and tries to tell herself that this feeling like she's existing somewhere else isn't shock and it isn't her heart breaking because it's a stupid metaphor for something that's a hundred times worse and that's not what's happening here.

She's frozen on the sidewalk, no idea if she should go in one direction or the other, streetcar doors open in front of her and the driver eventually yells, "Are you getting on or not?"

And she thinks about going home and being alone and thinking about all the ways she screwed this up and about all the things Spike's probably sitting at home thinking about and she doesn't know whether to ignore 'I need time to think' or if he'll just throw her out, if she'll just make it worse. She just doesn't know where to _go_.

She remembers the way she got over Rob, all on her own after her sister left and thinks he was right – she has changed. Because she chose that, chose being alone and it sucked and now she's thinking about what it's like having people on your side, what it's like to rely on those people and know that everything might be better because of it. She's also thinking about all that stuff her mother said about playing things close, about keeping her mouth closed, about all the ways it could have been different if she hadn't.

"Uh. No. Sorry." She stands watching the streetcar pull away and then she puts her head down against the wind, walks in the other direction instead.

Dahlia opens her front door grinning, face all bright before the smile slowly disappears right off her face. "Win?"

Winnie steps forward, drops her forehead onto her best friend's shoulder and just shakes her head, starts trembling the second Dahlia's arms come up around her.

"Oh my god. What is it? What happened?" She pulls her inside, doesn't let go of her, squeezes her hard and then says, "Who do you want me to kill?"

Winnie just shakes her head, can't even smile at that.

In typical Dahlia fashion, she drags her into the kitchen, grabs two glasses and a bottle. "I know you like tea. But I don't have any. So this is going to have to do. Drink that."

Winnie laughs except it just sounds like a sob, this awful noise that she swore last time would never come out of her mouth again. Drains the glass that Dahlia pours for her. Starts talking. Doesn't leave out anything except all the ways she felt when Rob fell back into her life, figures there's just no point. But she tells her about how Spike gave her an out and she took it and how three nights ago, he made her laugh so hard she sounded like a seal which made him laugh and she had to leave the room to get herself under control only to come back in, take one look at him and start laughing all over again and how he saw her and Rob and it wasn't like that and he buys _cream_ and she wants to be in that stage with him and how angry he looked in the locker room. So basically, she can't even understand herself, has no idea how Dahlia even puts it all together.

Winnie finishes talking and Dahlia doesn't say one word, takes a sip of her drink, swallows, looks deep in thought the whole time. Winnie's never heard her so quiet.

She rests her foot on the rung of Dahl's chair, pushes limp hair out of her face. "So?" She braces herself, has been on the receiving end of Dahlia's sharp tongue before.

"Huh. So."

She stares at her incredulously. "That's it? That's your whole response?"

Dahlia sighs. "You want me to tell you all the ways you screwed up?" Then she leans over, drapes her arm across Winnie's shoulders. "I wish you had come to me, Win."

Possibly, she feels worse than she did before, how Dahlia sounds all sorts of non-judgemental, like she's just making an observation on the weather. "Dahl-"

"But I understand why you didn't." She sighs again. "He'll come around. He's probably suffering from some kind of issue where he now has to face the fact that you're not perfect. The rest of us faced that a long time ago so it's easier for us to-"

Winnie elbows her in the ribs.

Dahlia laughs but it sounds weak. "Seriously. He'll think about it and think about it and then he'll remember he's in love with you and that'll be that. You'll tell him you want to explain, he'll sit there and listen and then everything will be fine."

God. Winnie wants to believe in that future, wants to believe in it a crazy amount. "Will it be?" she asks dismally. "I don't know. It looked bad, Dahl. Like. He saw Rob kiss me and he probably thinks-" She stops, can't even stand to imagine what Spike's sitting at home imagining. "And maybe he doesn't feel that way, maybe he just doesn't love-" She stops again, starts over. "It looked like I lied to him and then had no explanation and he's probably sitting there thinking-" She can't get the words out, like all the parts of her that are connected to her mouth are shying away from all of the things she doesn't want to face.

"What was he even doing there anyway?"

"You know, funny thing, I didn't think to ask that," Winnie says, only slightly sarcastic, can't even believe that's all Dahlia's thinking. "Does it even matter? I just." She swallows hard. "I really fucked this up."

"Oh, why? Cause you said you were with me and then you weren't?" Dahlia makes it sound like forgetting to put out the recycling bin, caught going five over the speed limit, a tiny little forgivable misdemeanor.

Winnie almost smiles, just weakly, just for a second. "I told him that Rob had been calling me-"

Dahlia glares at her. "Why would you do that?"

"He asked me!"

"And you couldn't just tell him-"

"No," Winnie says firmly. "No. I couldn't stand there and lie right to his face."

Dahlia closes her eyes briefly, bites at her bottom lip before she insists, "Well, it's still not that bad. It could have been worse."

Winnie thinks about Spike, about how he likes to keep the people in his life close, about how this little lie kind of feels like a really big lie, all the time she spent trying to shove it back into her closet, about how he's probably sitting there wondering what else she lied to him about. About what he saw. Doesn't really see how it could have been worse.

"Win?" Dahlia's just watching her, looks so sorry for her.

"Hm?"

"He'll come around. Everything can be fixed. Especially this. It's not like you were banging Rob-"

Winnie wrinkles her nose. "Can you not call it that?" God, the thought of Spike sitting there thinking that she-

Dahlia stares at her with her mouth open and then continues talking like there was never an interruption. "-on the couch or anything. You were trying to help someone who's made it his life's mission to guilt you into doing things."

"I-"

"No. You're not going to convince me otherwise. You tried to help him. He didn't want your help. As far as I'm concerned, the situation is done. He doesn't get to pull you back down with him because he can't stand the fact that you're happy and he's not."

"Dahlia, he's not _well_." She feels her heart drop a little more at saying that. Sounds familiar is all, all those years she spent telling herself the same thing.

"Yeah? Says who? You don't get to make someone else feel like shit just because you do. And I don't care."

She huffs out a breath of something that's nearly laughter at that one and then leans her head on Dahlia's shoulder. "I should have just told him what was going on." Her stomach keeps turning.

"You only told me a few months ago - it's not an easy thing for you to talk about," Dahlia says, her voice all soothing.

"You told me to tell him. I should have listened." She's such a fucking idiot.

"Well...what the hell do I know?"

Winnie sighs. "I should have told him the second Rob called me. I should have told him the second it happened. I should have just told him where I was going yesterday." If she keeps going, she's either going to cry or throw up.

Dahlia's quiet for a moment and then she leans her head on Winnie's. "I know."

"What am I going to do?" she asks plaintively.

"That depends."

Winnie runs her fingers over her mouth, wonders if the fractured feeling in the pit of her stomach is ever going to stop. "On what?"

Dahlia sighs, squeezes her shoulder. "On whether you want to fix this or not."

"Want to-of _course_ I-Dahl, how could you-"

"Cause if you do, you're going to have to be patient. You're going to have to be straight with him. Really really straight."

She stares at her. "You think it's over."

"I didn't say that. Look, you need to understand that the only thing you can control in life are your own actions. How he feels, what he does? You don't get to decide those." She looks like she wants to keep going but then she looks at Winnie's face and doesn't.

Winnie leans her chin on the table, wonders if it's possible to put a heart back together, if it really does break the way every single pop song says it does, if it cracks open slowly like the shell of a boiled egg or if it shatters, glass on cement. And then she wonders if Spike feels strongly enough about her that his heart feels the way hers does. Doesn't know if she wants him to feel strongly enough or not.

* * *

The first week after that night in the locker room is the worst, the shock of everything being different, every second feeling like an hour, running on caffeine and no sleep and she knows she stares at him for too long, just can't help it. Keeps thinking about how he looked at her when he told her that he'd never lied to her and how much she already misses him even though he walks past her desk sixty times a day. (He never looks at her and she wonders for the ninetieth time if he just doesn't feel the way she feels because she could stare at him all day long and still feel like it wasn't long enough and he just doesn't seem to miss her, not at all.) Work has always been her escape, only now, it's kind of all ruined because she can't escape Spike, even if she can ignore everything she feels right in the pit of her stomach on every single call Team One goes on. She over-compensates by being calm and far too collected, does her job better than she ever has, but on the inside, her stomach's in knots and everything's a mess.

It's just – he said he wanted time. And she has no idea what in the fuck time's supposed to do but she figures the least she can do is wait until he can at least look at her before she tries to explain herself to him. Still doesn't know what she's going to say.

She's been through break ups before (not that they're broken up, she distinctly remembers Spike not answering that question and it's stupid as all hell but she thinks it has to mean something, even if it's only a technical something), has been through break ups alongside her friends before and yes, they aren't easy, she _knows_ that.

But. It's all kinds of worse knowing it's her own fault. Worse still when she has to see him every single day knowing that she's the one who screwed up. She gets to be confronted with her own stupidity every single moment she's at work and she can't touch him, just knows that he's going home without her and even though she knows it's ridiculous, all she can do is think about how he could be sleeping with some other girl, kissing her forehead and making her coffee, making her _laugh_ and Winnie really doesn't know how she's going to stand it. She thinks that as she sits here, no idea what direction to take, he could be falling in love with someone the way she wants him to love her.

She has to keep reminding herself that all he said was that he needed time to _think_, that it's not over. Only, it kind of feels exactly like that and all she wants to know is what in the hell is even wrong with her that she can't just tell him that she's his (keeps hearing this voice that kind of sounds like Rob in her head saying, 'You can't own another person, Winnie, what are you, stupid?'), that he's everything she never even realized was out there. It's probably because she hasn't been sleeping well, all these stupid dreams that don't make any sense and then waking up and realizing that Spike's not sleeping beside her.

It's just like – she's fine but then she thinks about him and she's really just not. Like her insides and outsides are all scrambled, like she's going to be physically sick every single moment she's awake.

She just wants to open her mouth, have the words come out right for once.

She keeps thinking about whether or not he feels the way she feels, like it's a bruise and she needs to poke at it, except every time she does, it _hurts_. And then it makes her wonder if he's hurt or if he's just angry and she just doesn't know which one is worse. She spends a whole lot of time thinking about the way it felt to have his arms around her, the way he kissed her and how easy everything seemed with him grinning at her over the kitchen table.

(Melanie listens to her and then doesn't say a word and when Winnie asks her if she's still there, Mel just sighs, long and sad. "So now what?"

"I don't know."

"Winnie," she says and her voice is all anguished and Winnie digs her nails hard into her palms.

She doesn't say anything else.)

The rest of the team has got to know and maybe everyone else at work knows too, Spike barely speaking two words to her except for over the headsets (during which time, he's so incredibly professional, it makes her throat feel thick), the two of them never leaving together. Him in the mood he's been in. Maybe she's the only one who sees that, he still smiles and makes jokes and has the rest of the team laughing but sometimes, she sees the way he looks down and it just-

So maybe that's another thing that's killing her a little.

(Pete put this really ugly figurine of a mouse on the desk, cleared his throat awkwardly and then left and Paul from Team Two told her that all men were stupid with absolutely no context whatsoever so she figures yeah. Everyone knows.)

Dahlia keeps calling her and asking if she's talked to him yet and every time, Winnie has to say no. She can't just _waltz_ up to him and ask him to listen to her, isn't so sure she deserves his time, to be honest. Every time, Dahlia just goes silent, like she's counting to ten or even twenty in her head. Winnie goes silent too.

Leah drags her shopping on their day off, tries on every single pair of jeans in the entire downtown core and Winnie forces herself to be _present_, to give the other woman honest opinions and not tune out and think about Spike instead. Even though she'd rather be sitting on her couch watching bad tv and thinking about Spike instead.

"You doing okay?" Leah asks her, when they're done and she's holding fifty shopping bags and Winnie's just trying to stay warm even though it's sunny and Leah's got her coat tucked underneath her arm.

"Yeah."

She nods slowly, doesn't look at her as she says, "Because. If you wanted to talk-"

She's known it was coming all day. Doesn't think she can talk about it, that one time with Dahlia was more than enough for her. "Yeah no, I'm good."

Leah looks like she's going to protest but she doesn't, just shoots Winnie a sympathetic grimace.

Winnie's kind of surprised that she lets it drop that easy, wonders if maybe Spike had something to do with that, tries not to hope that he did, this tiny sign that he might still care. Which just goes to show, she's as fucked in the head as she's always been, taking that as a sign of anything at all.

Ed brings her a coffee one morning, gives her this friendly little smile. She forces herself to smile back, asks about Izzy and Clark and Sophie's business and he looks like he's going to start like, _talking _to her or something and the thought is so horrifying that she doesn't even know what to do, doesn't know how she's going to have Ed tell her about all the ways she messed up without starting to cry right at the desk.

"Thanks for the coffee," she says a little abruptly, raises it in a slight salute before she takes her first sip.

"No problem. Looks like you could use it."

She's too exhausted to take any offence to that whatsoever, just looks at him.

He looks steadily back at her, blue eyes trained right on hers and she has no fucking idea what he's trying to tell her or what he's trying to say but he doesn't look at her accusingly or like she's a cheater so maybe- "That guy still bothering you?"

It takes her a second to figure out just what the hell he's talking about. She almost wants to ask for context. "Uh, no. No he's not." Actually, that's about the only thing that's going right in her life right now.

He nods and has this weird pleased look on his face as he walks away. She stares after him and then slowly takes another sip of the coffee he brought her, thinks that doesn't it just fucking suck that she's thinking about all those times Spike brought her coffee before she went and messed up all the good things between them. Misses him so much that she has to remind herself to swallow it.

She runs into Spike in the elevator, sprints for the doors before she notices he's standing in the corner and then she just pauses awkwardly because like, does she get in or not? Does she wait for the next one? Does she take the stairs? Tells herself to stop being ridiculous. Clears her throat, jabs at the button and he takes a step back, like he physically can't stand to be near her.

She swallows. "Hi." Turns her back to him.

"Hey."

Okay, really, does he have to do that? It's not an abrupt 'hey', not like the tone she used, makes her think of waking up to fingers sliding across her ribcage and lips on her neck. She stares straight ahead, tries not to think about all the ways she just wants to turn around and kiss him, beg him to take her home with him.

She slows down when the doors open, tries to pretend she's looking for something in her purse, when really, she just wants him to pass her and leave. Except, then he doesn't, keeps pace with her, even though he's a couple steps behind and when she glances over her shoulder to see if he's got the door and she can let go, he's way closer than she thought he'd be.

They're a foot apart and she's staring at his mouth for a second too long before she realizes what she's doing, lets go of the open door immediately and tries to smile. He just looks at her, this expression like she's his science project and she has no idea what in the hell he's thinking and she never realized that he wasn't hiding things from her before, not the way he is right now.

Not that she doesn't deserve it.

"See you tomorrow," she says, tries for upbeat and thinks it just comes out sounding _normal_, keeps rummaging through her bag.

"Have a good night, Winnie."

And like, what in the hell even, him saying her name shouldn't _be_ a thing. It is _not_ a thing. But her stomach ends up somewhere in her ears and her blood's moving backwards and she doesn't even know, just tightens her fingers on the strap of her bag and keeps walking.

When she gets home though, she thinks about him saying her name and how much she wants him to be smiling at her, cleans her bathroom from top to bottom until it's excessively clean and then she may or may not end up crying into her pillow, her knees pulled up tight into her chest.

* * *

Dahlia comes to get her from work four Thursdays after The Locker Room Incident, green eyes hard and when Winnie comes out of the locker room, Dahlia's talking to Sam and Jules, both of them still geared up, Spike nowhere in sight.

"You ready to go?"

Winnie shrugs at her, thinks that actually, she'd really like to just go home, watch CP24 and then go to bed (she keeps tearing up in the shower and there's only so many times a person can try to tell herself that they're not tears, it's just water).

"You guys wanna come?" Dahlia looks at Jules and Sam and they look at each other, all this silent communication that makes Winnie look away and pretend to be fiddling with her sleeve. She tugs at a loose thread and then just leaves it hanging.

"We don't want to hold you up," Jules says smiling. "Next time though." Winnie thinks Sam looks a little regretful about not coming which – she has no idea what in the hell that's about. Not like she's been great company lately (Jules hung around the desk yesterday telling her horror-date stories that she'd heard from Sam's sister and all Winnie could muster was a polite smile and some sympathetic 'ugh's).

Winnie doesn't say two words the whole way to the bar, she's just so _tired_, not up to making conversation at all. They sit down and Dahlia says conversationally, "You look like shit, by the way."

She glances at her, head propped up on her hand. "Thanks, that's exactly what I needed to hear."

"Nice bags," Dahlia says motioning to her eyes. "You know, you could probably do with some sleep. And some food."

"You once told me that was the silver lining of break ups." Winnie tries for a joking smile, has no clue if she succeeds or not.

Dahlia ignores her entirely. "If it were me, I'd be strutting around in my cutest outfits with a face full of makeup. Make him see what he's missing. Not that I don't appreciate the effort you've made with the eyeliner." It sounds like she doesn't appreciate the eyeliner-effort at all.

Winnie doesn't even bother addressing that one, doesn't know if Dahlia's ever felt what it was like to have something end all because of her, to hurt someone you loved by accident with your own foolish actions.

Dahlia drums her fingers on the table. "You're behaving like an idiot."

Winnie raises an eyebrow. "Am I?"

"You owe him an explanation. And sitting here like a bump on a log is not it."

"He won't talk to me." How is she supposed to explain if he won't even listen? And how is she supposed to ask him to listen if she can't even find the words to ask? She knows Dahlia would probably break into his house and tie him to a chair to get him to listen but Winnie's not like that.

"Have you even tried?"

Winnie thinks about calling him and getting his voicemail, listening to it just to hear his voice and then feeling her whole body hurt, listening to messages he left her ages ago and like who in the fuck _is_ she? That is Twilight behaviour right there and there's no way she's confessing that to anyone. "I-once."

"Once?!"

"He didn't answer! What do you want me to do, harass him until he picks up?" She's not a kid, refuses to act like one. This is not some kind of ridiculous high school drama playing out over text message.

"You could try it."

She snorts, like what in the hell does Dahlia know anyway? "He wanted time to think. I'm giving him time."

Dahlia gives her an incredulous look. "What the hell does that even mean? Time to think about _what_?"

Winnie has no fucking idea. "Can we talk about something else?"

She snorts. "No. Because no one else is going to call you out on your bullshit, even though they totally want to, by the way." Dahlia gives her this morally superior look that makes Winnie want to knock her teeth in. She doesn't even know who 'they' are.

"Dahl-"

"You haven't once questioned what the fuck he's doing? So what? You're just going to wait for him to make the first move?" She sits back in her chair, arms folded. "Huh. What's it like being a passive spectator in your own life?"

Winnie glares at her, feels her throat close up in anger. Dahlia's always known exactly how to push her buttons. "Are you deaf? He. Will. Not. Talk. To. Me. And who can blame him?"

Dahlia's mouth falls open and she narrows her eyes. "That's what this is about? You feeling guilty? You could give the _Pope_ a lesson on that."

"Funny."

She snorts rudely. "I'm not trying to be funny. I mean, come on. Your ex-boyfriend yells at you in public, humiliates you in front of all your friends, treats you like complete crap and for some reason, you'll still hang around being supportive for him! What's wrong with you? I mean, holy fucking hell, your ex crashes his fucking car and that's _your_ fault?"

Winnie looks up sharply.

Dahlia at least has the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Mel told me about that."

"So what, now I have to worry about my sister and my best friend talking about me behind my-"

"It wasn't like that and you know it. It was two people who care a shit ton about your well-being trying to figure out how in the hell to help you, since you won't help yourself." Dahlia twists her ring around her finger, face all smooth and patient but Winnie knows her, sees the way her lips are pursed, doesn't understand why she's so pissed off.

"I don't need to-"

"You _do_ need to. The two of you are fucking this thing up so hard, it's not even funny."

"He won't-"

"You can't control what someone else does. After _Rob_-I just-don't you know that by now?"

"Of _course_ I know that-"

"Then stop acting like a fucking idiot. What, you think you're the only one in the world who's ever done something stupid? Stop wallowing and start fixing it."

Winnie sits back a little, everything in her screaming to protest, to snappishly ask if she can finish talking, to argue in a way that's below the belt and unfair and will probably end with her best friend reaching across the table and slapping her right across the face. That's what Dahlia thinks? That she's _wallowing_, like she's some stupid teenager, lovesick over the captain of the hockey team? "How _dare_ you-"

"You mad at me? Good. You should be. That's _my_ Winnie, this other chick, the one sitting here fucking doing nothing? Staring at the ground with her hands over her mouth? I don't know who that is."

Winnie takes a deep breath, quells that desire to just get up and leave, figures that she doesn't want to lose her best friend and also, possibly Dahlia has got a point about the wallowing which is not a thing she really wants to admit. She thinks about that, about guilt and about messing up a good thing and she has to rub hard at her eyes, eyeliner be damned, doesn't know if the stinging is because she's tired or because she's going to cry or because Dahlia's fucking right.

"I'm saying this because I love you, Winnie," she says firmly. "Fix this. Fix it now before it's too late."

"He _hates_ me," she says, voice low and she thinks that it's entirely possible that she's going to burst into tears right here at the table. She bites down hard on the inside of her cheek.

Dahlia's eyes soften, just a little. "He's _confused_. He's angry. He's probably, you know, like, hurt or something." She pulls a hideous face like she can't even fathom it. "How would you have felt if it were you?"

She shakes her head. "That's _all_ I think about. Why do you think I've just left him alone? I wouldn't want-"

"Okay fine, then scratch that, you've got the luxury of not dating yourself. Thank God." She rolls her eyes.

"Dahl-"

"You were stupid. Really stupid. But it was a misunderstanding! You can't run out the door every time there's a misunderstanding." She clears her throat. "And so what? You're just going to let this guy go? Even though you want him back? Just like that? After what he went through?"

"What he went through?" Winnie stares at her. "What the hell does that mean?"

Dahlia rolls her eyes again, like this conversation is just the most irritating thing she's ever had to live through.

"What?"

"You think him always being around is a coincidence? You think he asked you out and then just went, 'oh well, she's not into it, guess I'd better move on'? Tell me you're not that slow."

Winnie stares at her. "I-we didn't-he never said-"

"You think he's not in love with you? God, okay, seriously, have you always been this dense? I swear, you weren't half as stupid in high school, why are you regressing?"

She ignores that little dig. "He never said that-"

"Did you?" Dahlia's angry again, eyes blazing, this hard set to her jaw.

Winnie swallows. "No." No she didn't, could probably write a book on all the stuff she didn't say, all the things she should have told him but never did.

"Then explain to me why you're just sitting on your ass doing _nothing_?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"I don't want it to be over, okay? I feel so _stupid_ and I'm fucking pissed at myself and it's killing me that he doesn't want to talk to me and I don't want to hear about how I might have hurt him and I don't want him to tell me that we're done! Is that what you want to hear?" She has to force herself not to raise her voice.

Dahlia doesn't say anything, crosses her legs placidly and folds her hands loosely in her lap.

Winnie runs her fingers through her hair and then pushes it back, shakes her head. "What do you want me to say? I know that I screwed up. And I wish I'd been able to just…explain. But he's right – I lied to him and I saw Rob behind his back and he saw-I didn't tell him and if he's _thinking_, then we're not _over_, okay?"

"Okay then. So we all good here?"

Winnie's mouth drops open. "I don't-"

She leans her elbows delicately on the table and smiles pleasantly. "Man the fuck up."

"Dahlia, I don't know-"

"There's nothing to know. Just fix this. No one likes seeing the two of you getting in your own way. It's stupid and it's childish and you need to figure out what's more important to you – him? Or how scared you are."

Winnie looks down, thinks that it's a serious toss up between those two. Then she thinks about how willing she is to do anything for him, anything at all that will make him happy. Thinks she might need to follow through on that one.

Dahlia's watching her with this appraising look on her face. "You going to be okay when he meets someone else? You going to be able to live with it when he starts bringing her out with the rest of the people you work with? Those dinners and those picnics and whatever the hell else you guys do? You going to be okay knowing that you'll be organizing things to do and you'll need to take into account an extra place for her?" Dahlia says it all ruthlessly like she doesn't even care that the bottom of Winnie's stomach is somewhere underneath the floorboards.

Winnie thinks about that, thinks about Spike laughing with another woman, touching her hair and her face and _looking_ at her and she has to swallow back the nausea. She wants him, all of him, wants things the way they were, wants Spike to look at her the way he used to, instead of not looking at her at all. But then she thinks that she would rather him not look at her at all than look at her the way she looks at herself sometimes, whenever she thinks about Rob and their relationship, that night and the choices she made. She took a bad situation and she made it worse, and then, it's like she couldn't leave well enough alone and it was selfish and disgusting and _stupid_, and then she couldn't just tell Rob to go stick it and she doesn't know how she's ever supposed to-

"That what you want?"

She only realizes that her breath is coming in these short little gasps when Dahlia leans over and shakes her violently.

"Are you okay with all of that?"

Winnie pushes her hand off her shoulder. "Of course I'm not fucking okay with it."

"Good. You shouldn't be."

She stares at her. "I don't know what to say to him," she confesses. Is suddenly conscious of the fact that that might be why she hasn't even attempted it.

"Start at the beginning. Make notes. Draw him a picture. What does it matter as long as you _try_?"

God, Dahlia doesn't even understand. Spike thinks he saw her kissing some other guy when she was supposed to be with him and nothing she says is going to- "I don't know _how_-"

"No one does. But sitting here feeling sorry for yourself is not going to be what makes you figure it out." She takes a deep breath. "Even if he tells you to go fuck yourself – which he won't – don't you owe him the part where you tell him you weren't cheating on him? Where you tell him you're sorry you lied to him? Where you tell him, you know, blah blah, he's great, you want to be with him forever, etcetera?"

Winnie stares at the table, keeps seeing the look on Spike's face that night in the locker room, all that anger. And she thinks that maybe she knows a thing or two about anger, how people use it to cover up everything else because it's so much easier. "I hurt him."

"Give the girl a prize!" Dahlia says and then pulls a hideous face. "Oh Jesus. And what? The guilt from that going to suffocate you too?" Dahlia gives her this look like she's not even the slightest bit sympathetic. "What do you expect? This is what relationships _are_, they're fuck ups and they're misunderstandings and they're screwing each other over by accident. But maybe you could try to fix all those things instead of sitting there whining about how you screwed up and then just sitting there looking stupid."

Winnie has to swallow twice, her throat's so dry. "Okay. Okay! You don't have to be so harsh."

"Tough love," she says and then looks at her worriedly. "Was I too much? I should have cut you some slack at the beginning there, eh?"

"No. No you shouldn't have," Winnie says, swallows hard. "You're right. About all of it. You're totally right."

Dahlia raises her eyebrows. "Yes well. I may not be able to find a healthy functioning relationship of my own. But. I can at least tell you when you're being a total fucking moron. And you are."

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay." It's like she's been teetering on this fence of what Spike might be feeling, caught between anger and hurt and now she can see all the ways that the only thing that matters is what she does next.

"Okay?"

Winnie clears her throat. "Yeah. I uh. Thanks." Yeah. Thanks. Probably not going to cut it.

"That's what I'm here for." Dahlia looks at her and then leans over and squeezes her hand hard, just once and then sits back. "Ok, seriously, where in the fuck is our waiter? Sometimes I just don't understand, how are people this annoying? I mean, you have _one_ job." She continues ranting, rolling her eyes and gesturing and Winnie takes a deep breath, thinks that having the right people in your corner really can make all the difference in the world.


	20. Chapter 20

AN: So here we are, at the conclusion of this story. I struggled long and hard with finding the ending of this and maybe, you won't agree with me - but I think this is the right spot. I mean, almost. We've got an epilogue and two outtakes left but the real ending is, I think, at the end of this chapter. Which is ridiculously long even if you take out this 50,000-word author's note. If that turns you off, probably you should back away now because it's pushing 9,000 words and that's after I edited the heck out of it.

I started writing this in a bid to understand one interpretation of the girl who turns down the perfect guy. And I asked you to go pretty far with me, a secondary character whose past was a totally blank slate, into her life and emotions and her point of view - so if you've come this far, _thank you_.

Which brings me to the next bit - if you have reviewed this, once or consistently, if you ever checked off any of the boxes at the bottom of the screen, if you ever sent me a PM that started off with "I feel like I'm harrassing you but-", if you've been sending me little DMs casually inquiring where the next chapter is, if you challenged me and made me _think_, I owe you a thousand more thank yous. You have been so incredibly generous with your time - truly, I could never find a way to say how grateful I am or how much I've appreciated it. You have been the wonderful icing on top of this very delicious cake.

Last chapter. Here we go.

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* * *

So. Winnie's apparently become a stalker.

She's been hovering outside the front doors of SRU since before the sun was up, knew what time Team One was supposed to be on shift today, subtracted a couple hours for workout, figured Spike would come straight here (if he didn't have anyone to drop off – like other girls he's been seeing, and she knows she's tormenting herself imagining it but also, she can't stop) which has him walking through the front doors in about a minute. Or two. Or possibly thirty but she needs to-

"Morning Winnie."

And she's also apparently so high-strung that she will nearly drop her bag all over the ground because running into people at the front doors is one of those startling kinds of things. She takes a second to get herself together, forces a smile before she turns around. "Hi guys."

Sam's got his arm around Jules's shoulders, both of them holding travel mugs and Jules has a half-bitten bagel in her other hand. "What are you doing out here?"

"Um. Just. Getting some exercise." One day she's going to figure out how to think on her feet when someone she knows asks her something like that. Clearly that day is not today but everyone needs a goal.

There's a pause that's about thirty seconds longer than Winnie would have liked it to be.

Jules keeps her face perfectly straight, says, "Oh, that's good," but Sam lets out a snort. Jules elbows him.

And all three of them are standing there knowing that they all know that nothing's how it was a month ago so Winnie clears her throat and says, "I'm actually just. Waiting for Spike."

Sam suddenly looks horrifically sympathetic, like he wants to pat her on the shoulder or something and if he keeps looking at her like that, it's entirely possible Winnie's going to have to turn right back around and go home. "He's going to be late today. He told Boss about it a couple days ago."

"Oh."

Jules still has that serene look on her face, like she's sitting in a field of buttercups, steps forward and pulls the door open. "Well. I'm sure you'll catch him whenever he gets here. Might as well head in."

Spike shows up a couple hours later. Winnie's already on shift (told Pete to just take off a little early because she was already there and it's not like she'd had to tell him twice or anything, he was pretty much up and out of the chair before she'd even finished speaking). She doesn't want anyone else being privy to any conversation she has with Spike though so when he leans his head around the side of the gym, she doesn't dare call out to him.

She catches herself staring though, Spike in jeans and his hair all messy like he's been running his fingers through it and she wonders what the hell's going on when she sees Sam catch his elbow, say something quietly that she can't hear.

She works her way through Team Five's request, turns her back to Sam and Spike and the hair on the back of her neck rises, this feeling like someone's staring hard at her. When she looks back, Sam's gone and Spike's looking at his phone like he's reading the most interesting text on the planet.

It's stupid as all fuck but she suddenly has this ridiculous desire to turn back to her computer, use the software and pull his last ten texts. Which is a blatant and complete disregard for her job and everything it stands for.

But still.

She thinks about it, just for a second.

She's in the process of gathering her courage when Spike disappears into the locker room without a backward glance at her and she makes a face. Just-doesn't it just figure that before they were dating, she couldn't even turn around without him being _right there_, always standing too close and bringing her coffee and smiling at her over the desk and Jesus Christ, she really _is_ completely vacant. It's like she's suddenly realized that Dahlia was right, that Spike being there all the time wasn't ever an accident.

It's silly – but it gives her some kind of hope, this tiny flutter right in the pit of her stomach. Like maybe someone who went to that kind of effort wouldn't just stop caring right away.

* * *

The team files in from the garage after shift and Winnie has decided that she's not going home tonight without talking to Spike. Except, she can't right now, not with the rest of the team standing there too, all those words sticking in her throat, turns her back to Team One because that horrible scrambling feeling is back and she's got to bind her reports and notes together anyway and also, she can't stand the thought of Spike five metres away from her and not looking at her and yes, she needs to get a grip but-

"Winnie?"

She clears her throat, doesn't turn around. "Yeah, Boss?"

"That was good work today."

"Um. Thanks."

She can feel him standing behind her, thinks he's going to say something else, all those things he can tell probably just by opening his eyes in the morning, the too many nights spent sleeping badly and how she's been kicking herself so she turns around and says, "You need anything else?" Hands over the transcripts.

Boss looks at her carefully, glances at Spike walking past him and into the locker room and then sighs, this almost-patient look on his face like he might be counting to ten in his head. "No, I think we're good. Thank you, Winnie."

"Okay well. Have to copy something." Forces a smile.

She really does have to copy something, makes a couple extra copies too and then pulls herself together, tells herself to get a fucking hold of herself and walks back towards her desk, comes around the corner and slams right into Spike. Nearly knocks the breath out of her.

His hands are on her shoulders for just a second before she steps backwards and he clears his throat. "I uh. Sorry."

Possibly, she's gazing at him, the gear and the pants and his _face_ and like, seriously, who _is_ she that she is checking him out like this? Also there's this feeling in her stomach like she left it somewhere else. "Um. Sorry," she says. Adjusts the files she's carrying and he looks at her like he might smile and she nearly drops her papers, fumbles with them and then clears her throat. Takes a deep breath. "Can we talk later?" she asks urgently. "Please?" And then she thinks of Rob pulling her back in with a hundred pleases and she wants to slam her forehead into the nearest hard surface, explain all the ways she's _not like him_, throw something, maybe.

"I don't know if-" He sighs, fixes his eyes on the wall behind her head. "Yeah. Okay. We should talk." He kind of sounds like he's going to be heading to his own execution.

All that enthusiasm and now, she's pretty sure that this 'talk' later is going to involve him totally ending things with her, nevermind all that crap about needing time to think and she just doesn't know if-

"Winnie?" He's all concern, looking at her like he's _worried_ and she just doesn't even know what-

She clears her throat. "Yeah?"

"Um. I can drive. If you want."

Obviously, it's not putting the kinds of thoughts into his head that it's putting into hers, how off-handed the offer sounds, how she's suddenly torn between being totally fucking _sad_ and also, like she wants him so incredibly badly which is just-she doesn't even know. "I-uh-yeah. Okay. Sure." She thinks she nods, isn't positive, just watches him walk into the briefing room and she has no idea what expression is on her face but Ed looks right at her from where he's already seated, gives her this encouraging look that freezes her right when she's about to take a step back towards the desk, with what she's sure is a ridiculous, slightly-horrified expression on her face.

At the end of shift, when the briefing room door is still closed, it occurs to her that she could just run, never come back here, get another job, try not to fuck it up. It's just a split second thought though before she rolls her eyes at herself and thinks she really does need to man the fuck up, just like Dahlia said. Man up and deal with it, even if he does tell her it's over. At least she'll know. And at least she'll be able to tell him that she's _sorry_, even if it doesn't count for much.

Even if it counts for exactly nothing at all.

She waits by his car, leans against a pillar and wishes for things she can't make happen.

Objectively speaking, it's possibly one of the worst things ever when he walks up, looks at her and then opens the car door for her, stands there until she pushes herself off the pillar and gets in, like he is just so fucking polite, he's even polite when he's going to be breaking up with her in about five minutes. They don't say a word the whole drive and she thinks that she's a second away from just losing it and crying and breaking down and begging him to listen and begging him not to let anything change, telling him that she loves-

She has to blink when the car stops, physically blink and wonder if she's actually still sleeping because they're at his house and she thinks doesn't that just suck because not only is he going to break everything off with her, she's going to have to walk home afterwards. Thing is, she also thinks she deserves it, every bit of how he's been acting, how it's been hurting her chest to see, she deserves all of it.

She follows him inside, and then they stand awkwardly in his front hallway, like neither one of them knows where to look or what to say and she hates herself for screwing this up. He sighs, runs his fingers through the back of his hair, opens his mouth like he's going to say something and then doesn't. Leaves her standing there as he walks into the kitchen.

God. She takes a few seconds to breathe, follows after him. She's just – she has missed the ever loving shit out of him, is all.

"I'm uh. Sorry. That I took so long. To think."

She shrugs, doesn't look at him, doesn't dare open her mouth for fear of what will come out because right now it feels like it'll just be an explosion of mush, hysterical begging, maybe.

"You want to tell me what you think happened here?"

And she knows that he's approaching this with all that connect-respect-protect bullshit and she wants to kick him in the shins and also maybe throw herself at him, get his arms around her. She huffs, thinks about all that stuff Dahlia said and lets out a sharp exhale. "I think that I'm an idiot. And I'm sorry. And it really isn't what it looked like. It's not-I'm not _cheating_ on you." She shakes her head emphatically, like it matters. "I would never do that. Not to you. Not to anyone." She wants to tell him that she loves him, nearly let it slip out in the car, but it's just – those words don't _mean_ anything, don't even begin to describe the way she feels and anyhow, how's he supposed to know what they mean to her? She can't just blurt it out. She wants him to understand and she's kind of patting herself on the back so far, how coherent and put together she thinks she sounds. "The most important thing to me is that you're happy. I want you to be happy."

He looks mildly amused for a second, says, "Do I look happy to you?" and then immediately looks apologetic. "Sor-go on."

She thinks that as far as getting what she deserves, pretty much that's not even the tip of the iceberg. "It was a mistake," she says firmly. "I shouldn't have-"

He snorts incredulously. "What, kissing some other guy-" he starts hotly.

And that's more along the lines of what she'd expected here. "No," she says, makes a face at him. "I mean yes. I mean. I didn't _kiss_ him. I was talking about-I just-I should have told you." She clears her throat. He's making her forget all about careful and intelligent and unruffled and not just letting words fall right out of her mouth. "I thought I was doing the right thing." She takes a deep breath. "I care more about you than anyone else. Ever." Clears her throat again. That came out sounding a little bit too honest and she's not embarrassed or anything, that's what she came here to do but she hadn't counted on the way he'd look at her. It makes her panic a little, what she's going to do if he stands there and tells her that he'll never forgive her. Doesn't know how she's supposed to just go on and find a way to be happy knowing that she didn't get the chance to at least try and make this right.

"I just don't understand why-"

"Because I'm an idiot!" she says again, tries to look at him and finds that she can't, fixes her eyes on the kettle. "I just...I look at what I did, all the, you know, hiding the phone calls and the texts and it's like I knew it was fucked up the whole time and I wanted to tell you! I wanted to tell you but-"

"Then why didn't you?" And that right there is a fair question.

She rubs her hands over her face, shakes her head at him. "Every time-" She lets out a breath of laughter that's not laughter at all. "Every time I tried to tell you, I'd think that the only way it would make sense would be if I told you the whole story. The whole thing. And every time-"

"Winnie..." He sounds fed up.

"I didn't want to be going on and on about it like it mattered or something. I didn't want you to look at me differently."

"Differently how?"

She snorts, thinks she's going to end up crying in front of him at some point, shakes her head. Bites down on the inside of her bottom lip. Differently kind of like how he's looking at her right now, all this disappointment like she's just not even worth his time.

He lets out a noise of frustration. "Okay, well. You want to know how I saw things?"

She shrugs. Even though she's the one who should be talking, she thinks if she opens her mouth now, she's going to be sobbing and she doesn't want to put that on him, knows it isn't fair.

"I asked you out. You said no. I didn't listen. I pushed at you, knowing the whole time that you told me you wanted balance. I pushed at you the whole time knowing that you weren't ready for what I wanted, that you weren't looking for what I wanted. And then you turned up here and _you_ asked _me_ and I thought that finally-" he sighs, runs his hands through his hair. "I thought that finally, we were on the same page." He pauses, just stares at her for a second. "But, you were never really on that page with me." Like it costs him something awful to say it. "And-"

"_What_?"

"And I just kept pushing at you," he says, ignores how her mouth is kind of open. "I wanted things that you didn't want to give me and every time, I just figured, it's okay, she'll come around but-"

"Things like what?" Okay, this is not how she'd pictured this conversation going, not at all because he hasn't once said anything about her lying to him, keeping secrets, hasn't said a fucking thing about how badly she fucked this up by lying to him about her ex.

"Okay," he says with a snort. "Things? Things like – I-this isn't a casual thing to me. I love being around you, spending all my time with you. I _like_ seeing you every single day." He shakes his head at her, presses his lips together. "I'm in lo-I've been trying to tell you for ages now. I'm-I'm in love with you." He gives her this glare like he's daring her to tell him that he's not. "And I've been telling myself over and over that maybe one day, I'll be able to tell you that without freaking you out and having you run for the door. But you don't feel the same-"

"What?" she says again, thinks she probably sounds a bit stupid, her voice all high-pitched and reedy but she's just hearing five words on repeat over and over, nevermind the rest of it.

He stares at her like he doesn't understand just what in the fuck she doesn't understand, starts counting things off on his fingers. "Okay so. You didn't want me to go with you to get your sister from the airport. You never wanted me to go up to St Cats with you. You never wanted me to-"

Seriously? Seriously. He's fucking SRU and he's good at his job, she knows it, knows how good he is at reading people so how in the hell has he gotten everything so completely backwards? "Um, what?" She snorts, even though she's trying to keep herself under control and it's counterproductive to be acting like what he's saying is ridiculous (even though it really really is). "You did get my sister from the airport with me. And what do you mean, I never wanted you to go? We'd been seeing each other for five minutes, what, come and meet my _mom_? Are you _insane_?"

He ignores her. "You never wanted the rest of the team to see us even holding hands, you never want my help with anything - you asked Dahlia's friend to help you when your shower broke!"

She gapes at him. "He's a plumber!"

"And then I saw you with that detective. And I knew."

She's sort of gotten the impression here that what he knows actually amounts to absolutely nothing. And not just because of the obvious. "Are you done?" she says, suddenly annoyed at all the things he's just said because she'd come in here expecting to have to explain how completely stupid and selfish she'd been, convince him that she loves him, this crazy thing she doesn't even really understand, not justify the existence of her feelings for him because to be perfectly honest, those are the only things that have ever made the slightest bit of sense. "I love being around you. If we hung out together every day, I'd be _happy_. I just-I thought that if everyone at work saw us being too touchy-feely, they'd give you a hard time." She licks her lips. "I-what, you think I don't want to be with you all the fucking time?" She sighs. Honesty. Go with honesty. "I just. Was trying not to be needy."

He looks completely confused.

She makes a face. "Spike, come on. I was trying not to be one of those girlfriends that you're totally sick of but can't tell to leave either. No guy wants that." Because if there's anyone who knows that, it's her, the amount of times she's heard it before and he's never going to know what it costs her to say it outloud.

He still looks completely confused.

"Okay can you just-are you still listening?"

"Yeah I'm listening. I just…I think that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Her mouth drops open.

He rolls his eyes at her, all frustrated, like she's purposely trying to misunderstand him. "I don't mean it like-what, do you think I'm counting the number of times a week I see you or something? What's the magic number? Don't forget that we-oh yeah-work together."

"Spike-"

"And furthermore, why would you ever think I would think that?"

"Spike-"

"Did I _do_ something to make you think I thought that?"

"Spike-"

He laughs, this harsh sound that echoes around the kitchen and makes her cringe. "So that's why? That's what all that running back and forth between my place and yours was about? You thought I didn't want you here all the time? Cause I-"

"I love you," she interrupts, thinks isn't it funny that her heart beat is so steady over this, of all things. Thinks maybe she was wrong and she should have started the conversation off this way but at this point, pretty much most of the things she's done here have been wrong and maybe there's just no point in trying to have any kind of strategy at all. Also, her sense of timing – it still sucks.

He just stands there.

She chews on her bottom lip. "I just-it's really stupid, but I thought you _knew_."

He stares at her with his mouth slightly open. "Yeah. No. I didn't."

She clears her throat. "I should have told you that before," she says, words kind of stuttering out of her mouth. "Um. Probably should have started off this conversation with that, actually. Cause I do. And I know all the things that it means and I want all of them. I want you to give me another chance. I want to fix this. I want to make this up to you. And I will do _anything_ it takes."

He doesn't say anything. There's a long silence.

She swallows hard, twists a piece of hair out of her face so she can see him clearly. "I should tell you about Rob. I want to tell you about Rob."

His eyes meets hers and it looks like he's steeling himself for the inevitable, like he still thinks she's going to be the one leaving him, nevermind the fact that she's just told him exactly how she feels about him and she's loved exactly two men her entire life and one of those took everything she felt and wasted it, nevermind that Spike is the only person she wants, the only one she wants to be with, the only person she wants to see any kind of future with-

She runs her hand over her mouth. "Um. He's the reason I didn't want to date another cop. You know. Ever. Which. Looking back now seems pretty stupid but I think we've already pieced together that me trying to pretend I know what the hell I'm doing in a relationship is really stupid. So."

He almost rolls his eyes at her.

"We lived together."

"Um okay?" She can see that he doesn't see the point in why she's telling him this. But – the beginning. She's got to start right there or none of it's going to make any sense.

"For two years and-"

"Two _years_-"

She shakes her head, tries to will him to understand being young and making stupid decisions like moving in with someone thinking it would solve all the problems in your relationship. "Don't. Don't look at that like somehow the length of time matters."

He rubs at his forehead. "Winnie, two years? You lived with the guy for two years and you never said anything-"

"You weren't exactly forthcoming with your ex-girlfriends either," she retorts, immediately rolls her eyes at herself, thinks it makes her sound like she's got the logic of a six year old.

He snorts, gives her this look like he agrees with her on her logic. "Yeah, okay. Well there was Laura in grade school, first girl I ever kissed. We were six. And then Jessica in high school. We dated for two years but. Never lived together-" She makes a face at him. "-two girls in the academy, Tanya and Elaine, couple girls when I was a rookie that aren't even worth mentioning. Jeanne the first few years I was at SRU but that didn't work out. Obviously."

She makes a face at him. "Are you done?"

"No, I'm still thinking that you _lived_ with someone for _two years_!"

"Fine," she snaps. "Does it make a difference if I was unhappy for those two years? Probably the whole time I was with him, actually?"

And he's still Spike, despite the snarky comments and the tone, he's still _her_ Spike because he suddenly looks so concerned. "Then why-"

"I didn't know how to leave. And believe me, I know that sounds ridiculous." It actually sounds about a hundred times stupider than ridiculous now that she's saying it out loud. She swallows. "I don't know! I look back at that and I just. I don't even know." She forces her hands down by her sides, forces herself to stop trying to explain herself with them.

Spike has this absurdly dubious look on his face and if Winnie weren't gearing up to relive the worst day of her life, she might want to laugh.

"It wasn't bad at first. I mean." She makes a face. "You know. Like relatively speaking. With him. Not you."

Now he looks perplexed, like he can't for the life of him see where she's going with this.

"Then. By the time it got bad. Guess I just didn't know how to leave." She pauses, thinks back over what she's just said, hopes he's not thinking she's standing over here like some kind of _victim_ or anything. It had been her choice, staying, wasn't like Rob had chained her to the stairs or anything. "It was kind of like living with Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, I just never knew which one I was going to get. He uh. Was always saying stuff like how he didn't have anyone except me. Or he wouldn't know what to do if I were to ever leave him. I don't know," she shakes her head, leaves out the bits with the screaming and the throwing things and the endless morning after apologies, all the pressure she'd felt to be everything that he'd needed. Thinks about that and then looks at Spike. "He'd get drunk, get in fights, break things. But it was always me, always my fault, I was always closing the door too loudly or I hadn't stacked the glasses properly or he'd buy me something and then throw it back in my face later. And then he'd sober up or get it out of his system and he'd be so _sorry_ that I just-" She sighs, rubs at her forehead. Wants to stop, more than anything, she wants to stop the story here.

"I found him in the kitchen one night just sitting there. Trashed. And he said that he knew he wasn't easy to live with sometimes but that if I ever left him, he wouldn't go on. Looked at his holster the whole time." She breathes in hard, tells herself not to be a cry baby, that there's more and if she breaks down now, just how in the hell is she going to start up again? "Wouldn't. Not couldn't," she points out unnecessarily, tries to ignore how hard her stomach is rebelling against talking about any of this. "And I looked at that and thought – I thought, 'if I leave him, he's going to do something that he can't take back'. And I know it was stupid to think that at all but." She lets out a shaky breath, thinks that pretty much, repeating this story and getting to relive all of it in her head is exactly as bad as she thought it would be and she's still not _finished_. "After a while, I guess I just thought it was normal." She snorts. "It's uh-it's not. You know. In case you were wondering."

She clears her throat. "You know. Someone keeps threatening something like that and eventually, you start figuring out that they're probably not going to do it. But I just-I wasn't _sure_." And she hadn't been, how Rob had always been skating that line and how she'd thought she'd owed it to him to stay, how she'd looked up one day and realized that one year had bled into the next, like her life was disappearing without having been lived.

Spike has this funny look on his face, like he's angry. Well. She's faced down his anger before, knows she has to keep going.

"The night I left-" Her knees suddenly feel like they're going to give out, her breathing all unsteady, but she also thinks that if she doesn't get these words out now, she might never. "The night I left, he asked me to marry him."

Spike still looks confused, like he can't tell what in the hell this has to do with anything and also, kind of like he wouldn't mind hitting something. "Okay? So you said no?"

She averts her eyes, thinks she can't bear to see how he'll look at her. And then she shoves all of it to the back of her mind and tells him, voice monotone like she's the woman reading directions on a GPS. Tells him how she said yes and then couldn't bear the thought of a life spent with Rob, a lifetime of hating every hour, tells him how she left in the middle of the night like a coward, and didn't look back. Tells him how Rob must have woken up, put all the bits together, all her things gone, no note, ring on the kitchen table, how he was drunk and got in his car to look for her anyhow. Wrapped his car around a pole, had the stupid ring in his pocket. How she saw all his calls show up on her cell and she didn't answer a single one of them. How he nearly lost his career and nearly lost his life and when he was sitting bleeding in a car with a deflated airbag in front of him, it's her who he was calling and it was her who was responsible and her voice cracks right at the end but then she's done and she just stands there, leaning back against his fridge with her arms crossed, even though she knows he can probably read a thousand things she'd rather he couldn't read, just from the way she's standing. She doesn't want to see the look on his face.

"So. Pretty shitty thing to do, right?" She clears her throat for what feels like the fiftieth time, swallows hard against the lump in her throat. "That's why. He called and I couldn't hang up on him." (Melanie had called her an enabler, the night she'd left him. Winnie has no idea why she's thinking about that now but, she kind of thinks Mel had had a point.)

"Winnie...don't. Don't cry." God okay, why does he have to sound like he cares so much, like he feels as tortured as she does, like it hurts him too? Can't he just be disgusted or disappointed or whatever it is he's feeling?

"I'm not _crying_," she says even though she feels like she might, like she could very easily here, even though she kind of already is, the prickling at the back of her nose. "I'm just-I wish I'd told you before."

"Win-"

"I just didn't want to lose what we had," she says, looks up at him beseechingly, like she can somehow convince him that love's enough, that he wants to be with her the way she wants to be with him. "I didn't want to screw it up." She snorts, sarcastically mutters, "So. Good one, Winnie. Way to go."

"You didn't screw it up."

She shoots him a look.

"I still don't understand what you were doing at Starbucks-"

She lets out a groan. "I don't understand why I didn't just tell you who I was with," she mutters, is just so angry at herself for it, wants to go back in time and fix it so badly, it hurts everything inside her. "I went to tell him that it needed to stop. That it was done. That I was happy with you and he couldn't call me anymore, couldn't expect me to just. I don't know. Be there."

"You did." He actually doesn't sound that surprised and she has no idea what in the hell-

"I didn't think it was a good idea to tell him that over the phone. You know. Not with that track record." She bites down on the inside of her cheek. "He uh. He knows. About you. How I feel about you."

He nods slowly, mutters something about Ed that she doesn't hear clearly.

"I'm sorry," she says, barely a whisper, thinks that while telling him was nowhere near as bad as she'd thought it was going to be, she also knows she can't take any of her bad choices back and she doesn't think she can stand it. "About all of it. The whole thing. Mostly that I hurt you." God, her throat hurts and it's hard to swallow but she also feels a little relieved at getting that part out because she _is_. So incredibly fucking sorry that she went out there and hurt someone she never intended to hurt, someone who never deserved it at all.

He looks at her and he doesn't look the way she imagined he might. Doesn't look accusing the way she'd expected. "Winnie," he says cautiously, "what happened with your ex wasn't your fault. Rob made his own choices."

She snorts. "Well. I left him in the middle of the night with no warning," she says and she's trying to sound flippant but she hears it and she knows she fails. "I think that pretty much makes it my fault. And then I didn't tell you about it so. That also makes it my fault."

"It doesn't-"

"You don't have to try and make me feel better. It just. So. I don't know. Maybe I have a disease. A screw up everything in your life disease." She's doing that thing with her hands again, forces herself to squeeze her fingers into fists, tells herself that she really needs to stop gesturing with them.

"You don't have a disease," he says with an exasperated sigh. She's about to open her mouth, protest that actually, that's exactly what it feels like, a horrible, self-inflicted disease and he reaches out and touches her and she thinks she gasps.

His hands are on her wrists, barely wrapped around them but her breath catches in her throat at his touch, the feel of his skin against hers, how it makes her inhale sharply. "I'm so _sorry_," she says quietly and her voice breaks a little.

"No, no, stop. Winnie-"

"I don't want him," she says, looks up and catches his eyes. "I don't love him, I don't want anything to do with him, it isn't like that. Not like how it looked. I just-I didn't want you to know that I was responsible for-"

"You aren't responsible," he says gently. "Same way I'm not for Lew not being here. Don't do that."

"Spike-"

"I get it," he says and his fingers tighten on her wrists almost imperceptibly, his voice still gentle, just a little rough and she'd never have caught it if she didn't know him the way she does. "I-Lew-_I get it_."

"You couldn't have saved Lew," she says and it takes her too long to get the words out, how her throat is thick and she's breathing just a little too quick. Her fingers aren't squeezed into fists anymore.

He just looks at her and all that breathing that was just too quick catches right in her chest, like maybe he thinks she couldn't have done any saving either.

"I should have told you-"

"Yeah, you should have-"

She inhales. "I wish I'd just told you-"

"Tell me something else then," he interrupts softly. "Tell me about us."

"I don't want you to go," she says, words tumbling out and no way to stop them and also, she doesn't _want _to stop them. "Like. Ever. Pretty much."

"Yeah?" She has no idea if that's hope she's hearing but she wants it to be, wants it to be a crazy amount.

"I like how we are. Everything about us. You make me laugh and I've missed that. Missed you. And I know that's just. Ridiculous, because I still see you every day but it's not the same and I know that I messed up. And I'm so sorry that I-"

"You don't-I should have let you explain."

"Spike-" She's already shaking her head.

"I should have. I shouldn't just have assumed the worst." He looks as sorry as she feels and she feels that itch at the back of her nose and she's not ashamed for him to see her tearing up, not at all.

She swallows hard. "Yeah. I don't um. I'm pretty sure you assuming the worst was my fault. Not telling you things I should have told you. Also my fault. I do love you though. And I know it looks like I don't even understand the meaning of the word but I-"

"It doesn't look that way." His eyes settle right on hers, all warm and her heart stutters out its beats, all the things she feels when he looks at her, all the things she doesn't want to run from.

"It probably kind of looks that way. I just." She sniffles, wants to pretend to be scratching at the corner of her eye, only his hands are still on her and she doesn't want him to let go of her. "I wish I could fix this. By like. Donating a lung. Or. Lying down in traffic or something. Something that's concrete, that's actually going to be able to show you that I-"

"You don't have to do any of that." There's the barest hint of a smile and then he sighs. "I really should have heard you out. I shouldn't have just walked out on you like that. I wish I hadn't." He gazes at her, this look like he can see everything she's ever felt, every silly frivolous thought that's ever passed through her mind. "I should have listened. Uh. Which," he shrugs, winces a little, "has been pointed out to me. More than once, the past couple of weeks. Guess I'm not so good with that part."

She doesn't think anyone at all in the world would blame him for not hearing her out, not wanting to listen to her reasons. "No one would ever think-"

"I would," he says quietly. "Wasn't my finest moment. Neither was the whole-" He clears his throat. "I should have given you the chance to explain."

She's not so sure she sees the point in him listing out his recriminations for her and maybe he _could_ have given her the chance to explain but she also thinks about running away even when you're standing still, about not being _ready_ to explain and all she wants now is the chance to show him everything she feels. "I just…I have to tell you one more thing."

"Win-"

"I choose you," she says softly, eyes falling to where his hands are still on her wrists. "Every day, that's the choice I make. And I um. I don't actually know that there's ever going to be any other choice for me. So. Just uh-just so you know." She's totally tearing up now, has to keep blinking wildly and sniffling like a snotty-nosed two year old.

He looks at her with that same flabbergasted expression, starts to laugh and the sound drops a pearl of warmth right into the centre of her stomach. "Yeah. Me too. You know. I never want you to leave either." He moves a little closer and she knows her breathing is doing this totally messed up thing where it's too fast, looks at him as he leans down and he's so slow like he's waiting for her to tell him to stop and he finally kisses her, tongue on hers, hands on her jaw, no space between them, and she kisses him back desperately, clings to him and never wants to let go.

They stumble their way up the stairs and okay, this is not a thing that's ever been _bad_ or even passably acceptable, it's always been a thing that works for her, is all she's saying, but every time he touches her, she feels herself trembling, feels her heart stampeding in her chest like it's going to burst right through her body.

She talks more than she ever has in her entire life, gives him a running commentary on what she's thinking (how he totally makes her want to swallow her tongue, how she never knew that kissing someone could make you feel so many things at the same time, that seriously, he makes her knees do a weird weak thing but you know, no big deal because she doesn't mind being weak around him, not at all, that she's afraid of getting hurt but she never wants to let him go) until he starts laughing, kisses her to shut her up and possibly, it's not the best idea in the world to use sex to start fixing things but, also, she can't stop herself, doesn't want to and it already feels different to her, everything between them. She doesn't have to hide all the things she feels for him, tells him she loves him over and over again until he cuts her off with his mouth all over again, laughing against her lips and it makes her stomach jump violently, hearing his laugh and she has no idea how she lasted so many days without hearing it and feeling his breath against her skin.

He tells her he loves her too, breathes it right against her lips with his hands on either side of her jaw, says, "Winnie, you're not weak, not at all," shakes his head at her and she feels like she can stand still for the first time that she can even remember. He kisses her deep, makes her lose track of everything but him.

Possibly, it's good to know that all the sex they had before? Totally not a blip on the radar, it's still a thing that they've got _figured out_, and okay, also, she may or may not tell him to bite at her a little more, how it makes her hips jump which makes him groan and she's never seen anything better in her whole life than the way he looks at her when she's on her back and he leans over her, touches her face and she tugs him closer.

And afterwards, she doesn't leap up and suggest he drive her home and he doesn't have to grab onto her to stop her from leaving. She rests her chin on his ribs and smiles up at him and he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her up to kiss her.

They talk too, until it's so late she's almost falling asleep, all wired at the same time, the way his fingers brush down her side, rub at her hip and she tells him all the things she's always had to stop herself from saying, all those confessions, all those affirmations, and her voice gets hoarse and he tells her that he loves her, that there's only her (and she has no idea how he knows the kind of ridiculous shit she's been imagining but all it seems now is ludicrous), kisses her and she wonders what in the hell she was so scared of in the first place.

"Hang on." He bounces up, smacks a kiss on her cheek and then disappears and she can hear him downstairs in the kitchen and her whole heart feels like it's exactly in the spot it's supposed to be in.

She's dozing, feels him standing, paused, in the doorway and he's just staring at her and she raises her eyebrows at him. "What are you doing?"

"Looking." He sounds all happy and it makes her smile.

She rolls her eyes, knows she can be just as ridiculous if he'll let her. "Oh yeah? See something you like?"

He bursts out laughing, gives her that look that she's only now realizing goes far beyond _fond_. "Yeah. Lots of things I like."

She grins at him, pulls the edge of a pillow under her head. "Yeah well, I can see just how much you're liking those things. You coming back over here or what?"

He snorts, kneels with one knee on the bed next to her. "Thirsty?"

"Thanks." Sits up to accept the glass he hands her and wonders what in the hell it is about him that she never wants to give him up. Wonders if it isn't just _everything_. She nearly drops her whole glass when he brushes his lips against hers and he grins, one hand warm against her neck, raises his eyebrows as he sits back. She huffs, drinks so that she doesn't do something ridiculous like throw the glass down and launch herself at him.

She looks at him over the rim of the glass, badly wants to hold onto the lightheartedness they just had but also- "I uh." She clears her throat.

Spike sets his glass down carefully on the side table. "I know."

"I really have missed you." She clears her throat and then sighs, shrugs at him. "You sure this is a thing you can do?"

He looks surprised, watches her set her glass down too. "I don't know what that means," he says cautiously.

She makes a face. "Trusting me to not lie to you?" She rubs her thumb over the sheet. "Not right away or anything. I'm not expecting you to just-because I know I'm not going to but-"

"I'm not really sure that that's going to be that difficult."

"Spike."

"You think I'm going to hold it over your head?" He sounds like he's trying to gather all the facts together and she huffs at him.

"I don't think you're going to do that." He's not like that, not the kind of person to hold grudges and it's selfish but she's looking down the road at loving him and what it would do to her if he couldn't ever trust her. "But I wouldn't blame you if-"

"I know you wouldn't." He sighs, moves a little closer and runs his thumb over her lips. "I wouldn't blame you if you were worried that the next time things get…complicated, that I'm not just going to walk away."

"I don't think you're-" She shuts up abruptly and then can't stop herself from smiling. "That an SRU trick?"

He laughs, kisses her very gently on the cheek. "No tricks."

She laughs too, softly and he leans forward and kisses her, runs his fingers across her thigh and she shivers, jumps a little when he gets his lips on her neck and his skin is all warm under her fingers.

She almost doesn't want to ruin this nice mood they have here, everything easy and slow between them but she has to make sure he knows. "And look, if Rob calls me-"

"You're going to answer," he interrupts calmly.

"What? No!" She's frozen against him.

"Winnie? You are. It's okay." His tone is all calm and soothing and seriously, he really is fucking good at his job, not that she really wants to be someone who needs to be talked down but he's still got one hand on her face and he's right here with her, eyes trained on hers.

"Spike, no, I-"

He smiles at her. "You love me?"

"_Yes_," she says, wants to tell him that it's immeasurable, that she feels it right down to her bones. But her voice cracks on the word and she hears a thousand things being promised in it and her eyes flick to his and she can see that he heard them too.

He gets this ridiculous grin on his face. "So? Isn't that good enough?" He clears his throat. "Cause uh. It is, for me."

She's quiet for a second, thinks about all the things she wants to say. "I'm never going to lie to you again," she says. "So. If he does call. I could just tell you." That's not the only thing she's promising to do – this isn't just about some ex-boyfriend and too many phone calls. It's about being willing to rely on someone else, to let someone else – him – in and not just close the door, hide away just because it's easier.

He raises his eyebrows at her. "Imagine that," he says slightly teasingly and she laughs because it does feel a whole hell of a lot easier than thinking about it on her own ever did. He leans down and kisses her, gets her head full of only thoughts of him and then he pulls away slightly and says, "I uh-I might always think the worst first. Even when I shouldn't."

She just stares at him, face a hair away from hers and she has to swallow hard, all the ways that he's the best person she's ever known, all the ways she would do anything at all in the world for him, thinks that if they want something that's more than this – better than this – they're going to have to at least _try_. Forces a tentative smile. "So." She clears her throat. "Kinda sounds like we have some things to work out." She clears her throat again, forces herself to look right at him. "Maybe we could do that together?" And she's still scared, all the ways this is going to change everything she knows about trust and faith and just _living_ but she tried the other way and it didn't work and now? Well now she kind of thinks that him turning upside down all the things she thought she knew might not be a bad thing.

A smile spreads slowly across his face and he says, "I think we could do that."

And his smile is infectious, the way it's always been and she kisses him again, slides her arms around his neck. She made up her mind before today, is the thing, made up her mind about him weeks ago and maybe even longer than that and she's not changing it now.

She's not stupid, knows this is only the beginning, knows she's going to have to spend the next several weeks and months and maybe longer reassuring him over and over again that she's not going anywhere, knows that every time she tells him she's with Dahlia, there might be a little voice in his head wondering if she really is where she says she is. Knows that trust is a thing that has to be earned. Knows that she's going to spend years learning to be comfortable with telling him every little thing, learning how not to be afraid of rocking the boat. Thinks she wants all of those things, for a chance, one she's not going to blow this time. Thinks she's never going to try and choose for someone else, not ever again, and that she'll stay forever if he'll let her.

He tugs her sideways and she lets him, giggles as a pillow falls with them and he rolls them over, kisses the tip of her nose and then her lips, says, "I missed you too. Not the same when you're not here."

She finds herself grinning up at him, is getting all lost in the way he kisses her and the feel of his skin, one of his hands skimming over her ribs and up across the side of her breast.

He pulls away again. "Um. I didn't mean just because of-like, you know-this or-"

She stares at him in disbelief, can't believe that he's going to stop what he's doing to make sure that- "Yeah, I got it, thanks."

He laughs. "Okay. Good. Just checking."

She snorts, wants to tell him that this is _so_ not the time to be checking, like hello, can he just get back to what he was just doing and then he does and she doesn't even have one thing in the world to complain about (except, possibly, the point where her head meets the headboard and really, not an issue except for when Spike stops and looks all concerned and like he's about to check her over for a concussion which is just not anywhere in her schedule for the foreseeable future).

Right before she dozes off, she nudges him. "I want to stay."

He snorts, kisses her shoulder. "Yeah, didn't think there was any other option here."

So she snuggles into him, feels safe.

More than that though – she feels strong.


	21. Epilogue

AN: So. We've arrived at the final piece. (Unless you're interested in the final outtake - in which case, nevermind.)

You've been so generous with your time in reading this - and particularly if you have reviewed or checked off boxes (and for you non-registered reviewers...I don't get to reply to you directly but I'm truly grateful for you. Speaking of, one of you asked me how Spike came to be at Starbucks; since I'm not able to write back to you directly and this is the end, I'll just say that he took a stroll and Winnie picked a poor hiding place), I really do owe you cookies. Or something.

Thank you for coming along on this little journey with me and for sticking with me (and Winnie) until the end.

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* * *

Even though she technically finished work twenty-five minutes ago, Winnie's still sitting at the desk, rocking back in the chair with one foot up on the bottom shelf. A quiet shift coupled with the fact that said quiet shift is now supposed to be over and seriously, she's just so restless, really wouldn't mind being on her way home right now.

(Plus, she's thinking about the awkward phone call she lived through earlier, thought about telling Spike about it right away - really wanted to - and then decided that in person where she could see his face and avoid any misunderstandings would probably be best.)

Her phone vibrates and she's grinning before she even answers it. "Hey you."

"Tell me you're getting out of work soon." Spike sounds like he's grinning too.

"Just waiting for Pete."

"Surprising," he says with a faint hint of irony.

"Stop it." She's trying not to snicker. "He covered for me two days ago when _you_ made me late." Feels herself smirking a little when she thinks about just why she was late two days ago which is entirely ridiculous but not apparently ridiculous enough for her to wipe the smirk off her face.

"I didn't hear you telling me you had to leave," he says unapologetically. "You coming home soon?"

She smiles, traces an idle pattern on the top of the desk. "As soon as he gets here. You still in pain?"

"Nope."

She sighs and makes a face that he can't see. "You're such a liar." He's been alternating between insisting that he's fine and giving her a wide-eyed stare and saying that it hurts the way he would expect it to (Winnie has absolutely no idea what in the hell that's even supposed to mean).

She can practically see him rolling his eyes at her. "Okay a little. Nothing you can't cure."

"You're unbelievable," she says trying not to laugh. Laughter just encourages him. "Remember the time they said take it easy for a few weeks? No strenuous activity?" Even if he doesn't, she sure does, and it sobers her up a little, thinking about that doctor and Spike sitting on a gurney in the ER with a sheepish little expression on his face.

"What's strenuous for other people is not-"

"You're not a doctor," she interrupts.

"That's a technicality."

"No, it isn't," she says, shaking her head and she's smiling a silly relieved smile because he's arguing with her – because he's still here to argue with.

"Yeah well. Whether I'm moving or not moving, it doesn't make any difference." She's fairly certain he's trying to sound reassuring.

She sighs. "That your way of telling me that it still hurts?"

He clears his throat. "Damn."

She sighs again but she can't hide the smile. "You getting rusty sitting at home?"

"See? That right there is why I need to be back at work." He says it like he's trying to sound convincing.

She can only shake her head at that. "Whatever you say. Pete should be here soon, anyhow."

He snickers. "Don't get a ticket."

She rolls her eyes. "Please. When have I ever?" God, she just likes him a stupid amount and it's not like it's a thing she ever forgets but if she did, there'd be nothing like him nearly dying to remind her of all the ways her life is better when he's alive.

(Not that he nearly died – Ed's training and knowing how to fall without even thinking about it but there was a moment there where her whole world lurched sideways.)

"Also. I made dinner. So you don't have to bother picking anything up."

She lets out a long suffering sigh. "You're supposed to be resting." Well, maybe it'll be microwaveable pizza (she kind of highly doubts it but everyone needs a delusion now and then).

"I'm bored." He sounds like he's about to start whining at her.

"It's been a week," she points out. Thing is, she gets it, even if at first he was trying to tell her he'd been trying to watch the last season of Lost for years and now he'd have the time to do it.

"And I'm still bored!"

She snorts but also, she's still smiling. "Fine fine. I'll be home to entertain you in a little bit. Pete just got here. I'll see you soon." She hangs up and shakes her head at the man hunched over in front of her, breathing heavily with his hands resting on his knees. "Pete. Seriously."

"I know, I know. Five minutes, I just have to change." He shoots her his most charming smile.

"You're the worst," she says, rolling her eyes. Takes in how he's not moving and the silly suggestive look he's giving her. Raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Pete shrugs innocently at her. "What?" he mimics and then smirks, leaning his elbows on the top of the desk. "Eager to get home to your man?"

She rolls her eyes again. "My man? What are you, a bad '70s sitcom?"

He raises an eyebrow at her, like she's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Obviously," she says with a grin. "Wouldn't you be?" And she is. Stupidly eager, actually, and she doesn't care who knows it.

He laughs at her, pulling his jacket off as he backs up. "Mm, he's not my type. Okay okay, I'll be fast."

She clears the last of the paper off the desk, leans back in the chair and closes her eyes for a moment. Figures there's probably a bit of a dopey smile on her face and part of it is still that relief that Spike's okay - the other part is probably to do with the fact that she's _happy_, things falling into place, being able to live with the choices she made, finding peace, maybe.

"How invasive is it if we stop by tomorrow night? I know we said weekend but I think Ed forgot a swimming class or something." There's a pause. "For Izzy. Not him."

Winnie pulls herself back up smiling. "Hey Sam. Not invasive at all. All of you, right? I think Spike's suffering from some serious cabin fever as it is."

"Needs to be entertained eh?" Sam looks amused. (She heard his breathing skip though, that day on that call, her brain trained to pick out voices and throats clearing, it's how she distinguished her own shock, that feeling like her world had changed, from the part of it that was still the job.)

She shrugs. It's easy to make jokes about it now, when they know that a non-serious concussion's not going to have any lasting effects and a separated shoulder will be healed in a few weeks. "Yeah well. I keep telling him not to avoid getting shot at by throwing himself down three flights but…"

Sam grins at her and she sees her own relief reflected right back at her. "You still giving him a hard time for that one?"

She smiles back. "What, for scaring the hell out of all of us? Naturally." Has relived that day far too many times already.

"Sam, did you ask her?" Jules leans her elbows on the edge of the desk.

"About tomorrow? Yeah, we're good."

"We'll bring dinner," Jules says. "And by 'we' I mean, Sophie will tell us what to do. Plus, I think she convinced Marina to do that bacon-potato-cheese thing Spike likes so much. How bored is he, really?"

"On a scale of one to ten? I think he hit eleven the day after."

"Serves him right," Jules says unfeelingly. "Scaring us all like that. And you can tell him I told you so because he's started to ignore my texts."

"Hey go easy on him," Boss says walking past. "I seem to remember both of you being in that position a time or two before."

Winnie shakes her head as Jules and Sam turn to look at each other in protest.

"We okay for after shift tomorrow?" Boss says, handing Winnie back one of the binders. "Did Sam mention it?"

"He did. And definitely." She stands and gets out of her chair as Pete comes jogging up the stairs from the locker room. "Also, Spike asked me to ask you if he really needs a doctor's note before you'll clear him for duty." She rolls her eyes.

Boss snorts. "No comment."

"Yeah, that's what I said," she grins. "Okay. See you guys tomorrow!"

She gets a chorus of 'have a good night's and one 'say hi to your man for us' and she sings along to the radio on the way home, windows down and strands of hair getting blown around her face.

Spike's waiting for her when she gets to his house, front door open, feet bare, leaning against the door frame. From this distance, it doesn't even look like anything's out of the ordinary (minus, you know, the sling, and the relief that courses over her every time she looks at him, the fact that she has to keep reminding her heart that it doesn't need to be living in her throat).

"You sped," he says accusingly before she's even half way out of the car.

She stares at him, mouth slightly open. "How do you know?"

"Because. I know what time you left, taking into account the traffic and the time of day, as well as the weather-"

Winnie bursts out laughing. "Yeah?" She grins up at him as she walks him backwards into the house, hands lightly on his chest, doesn't even bother commenting on how bored he must have been to consider any of that at all. She's been thinking about this moment since 11:30 this morning and it's not just the way he kisses her that's been on her mind.

She waits until she's at least dropped her set of the car keys on the side table and they're standing in the kitchen, clears her throat and he looks at her and stops moving. "What is it?" She hears some well-disguised worry in there.

She makes a face. "Seriously, how do you do that?" Tries to shoot him a reassuring smile. Cause it's nothing.

"It's a gift," he says dryly, shoots her a look she's not sure how to read. "So?"

"It's not a big deal," she warns him, ignores the way her heart's pounding and how there's a faint sheen of sweat on her skin because this isn't a big deal and she's probably just wearing too many layers for summer.

"Okay."

"My ex called." She really can't bring herself to use his name which is utterly ridiculous and she vaguely wonders if this is some sort of thing that can be profiled, like if another person would do the same thing to create distance or something between the past and now (it's just - so, possibly, she's been picking up some of those negotiation tactics. At least, she knows the kinds of things negotiators watch for).

Spike looks too calm, leans back against the fridge with a kind of practiced ease, this expression on his face like he's about to ask her how she feels about that. She's well-aware that he doesn't have to ask which ex she means.

"He's um. He's at Bellwood."

His eyebrows shoot up. "The rehab centre?" He nods slowly. "Okay. So. You gonna go see him?"

Okay, seriously, sometimes he just drives her insane, all that logic that she just can't follow. "What? Of course not. Why would I go and see him?" She's only barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes but she sees something in his shoulders relax a little. "He must have seen it in the paper. The take down. I don't know. He was calling to like. I don't even know. Check up on me?" She makes a face, the idea so extremely foreign.

"Probably just checking to see if I'm still alive," he says, mutters something else about killing off the competition and then at least has the grace to shrug, a little half-smile on his face. "Sorry. Well. I guess that's good."

She makes another face at him and then clears her throat. "He um. Sounded sober."

"You guys talk for long?"

"Not really." She shrugs, just doesn't really have a whole lot to say to the guy and she can appreciate the gesture but also, she kind of thinks Rob's not going to be making a habit of it and that's just fine with her. "He basically asked how you were, said he'd heard about it. Asked me how I was. I asked him how he was. That was it."

He nods slowly. "Okay."

"Okay?" She swallows hard. It's not like it's difficult being in this relationship, not at all, actually, but sometimes, she can't find the words or they get stuck somewhere else. She's learning, though.

He smiles at her. "Yeah. I'm uh. Glad he's doing okay."

She snorts at that and he gives her an innocent look. (She gets it though. Thinks she'd hate the person who hurt him, too.) "I missed you, by the way. Work's lonely without you." She's (mostly) joking but it's definitely taking some getting used to, not having him hanging over her desk in his downtime (possibly, also, she might have a new appreciation for Spike in his tac gear, something to do with not knowing what you have until it's on leave for a few weeks and possibly longer, or something like that).

He lets her lean up, kisses her firmly on the lips and she tastes the moment everything between them goes back to normal and it makes her heart do a ridiculous leap right in her chest. It's just - they _have_ a normal and it's a thing that she likes having. He makes a face. "It's boring here without _you_. Maybe you should just stay home with me."

She snorts. "Yeah, sounds like a plan. Do you want to tell Holleran or should I?" Also, she's smiling at him, how he's just so many things to her all wrapped up in one person, all the ways she wouldn't change any of it.

He slides his arm around her waist, kisses her a little more thoroughly. "Maybe someone else will do it."

"It's doubtful." She sniffs the air and then grins at him. "What is that?" It smells complicated, not like microwaveable pizza at all.

"Dinner. You hungry?" He shoots her a wide-eyed grin, like he knows exactly what she's thinking.

She sighs, because even though she is, she wants to tell him for the fortieth time that he's supposed to be taking it easy and that there's no point in him being at home if he's just going to be doing the exact opposite of it. But also, she keeps reminding herself that he's not the kind of person to make foolish decisions, not when he knows the cost. "Starved. Also, your mother called me at work today – again. See? She knows you exaggerate, wanted to know if you really _are_ fine."

He wrinkles his nose. "I'll talk to her."

She finds herself smiling up at him as she loops her arms around his neck, kisses him before saying, "Just stop telling her you're fully healed, she knows you're not. Also, everyone's coming over tomorrow after shift. Jules said they'd bring dinner."

He grins at her. "So I won't get you all to myself till after they leave?"

She rolls her eyes at him, is also trying not to grin back and encourage him. "What part of no strenuous activity did you not understand?"

"You realize that it didn't stop either one of us yesterday, right? Or the day before that? Or the day before that?" When he puts it that way, it sounds like they have a _problem_ or something.

"You're a bad influence," she says huffily. She'd been all set for no fooling around for at least two weeks (you know, let all the bits settle back to where they were supposed to be but that had gone right out the window pretty much the same second she'd gotten him home from the hospital but she had at least _tried_ which is more than he'd done. But she'd let it go the first time because he could have died and he'd still had some Percocet in his system and that had pretty much been that).

He steps just a little closer, his hand on her hip. He drops a kiss on her lips. "Yeah?"

She glares at him. "That's not going to work."

"No?" He leans down and brushes his lips gently against her neck. "Not even a little?"

And see? This right here is the problem, he touches her and all her brain cells just flop right down waving little white flags. "I hate you."

She feels his mouth against her skin, curving into a smile before he snickers. "Can't help it."

She giggles as he unbuttons her jeans with one hand. "What, here?"

"You got somewhere else you want to do this?"

She glares at him.

"Clean up'll be easy. It's tile," he says wheedlingly.

She laughs, shakes her head at him. "Fine. fine. If this is how you want to prolong your injury, fine."

He smiles. "It's not going to prolong anything."

"Isn't that the truth," she says with a smirk.

"Oh hilarious. You know, it's funny, I've never heard you complain."

Well, he's right about that one. She shrugs, giggling, figures she'd better help him get her clothes off before he hurts himself.

* * *

Jules has got Izzy curled up on her lap and Winnie's got her feet propped up on the edge of Leah's chair, both of them laughing at the story Marina's telling, Dahlia on her other side having this incredibly in-depth conversation with Allie Wordsworth. Winnie can vaguely hear Ed and Wordy arguing something fierce over the barbeque, Boss trying to soothe both of them.

"Can't someone shut the two of them up?" Dahlia mutters out of the side of her mouth. "Sam?"

Jules snorts. "Yeah, Sam?"

"I'd like to not get my head bitten off, thanks," he retorts from where he's standing. "Hey, Winnie, there more ice in the freezer?"

Winnie stretches. "I'll come with you. You'll never find it, not without a map."

Sam laughs, waits for her by the open back door.

She hands him three bags of peas and a carton of ice cream before she can reach the ice and he snorts, tells her she's right, he wouldn't have found it and why does Spike need to keep batteries in the freezer and possibly, on second thought maybe he doesn't want to know.

"Thanks." He glances at her as she shoves the peas and the ice cream back inside and closes the door. "You doing okay?"

She knows what he's talking about. Usually, it's Jules, a hand on Winnie's elbow or one of those gentle smiles, all that understanding about being on the other side of the job. (Not that the rest of them aren't just as guilty of doing it. Ed, for instance, brought her coffee every single morning this week, handed it over without saying a word.) "I'm fine."

"Yeah? You sure? Cause. It's cool if you're not. It was scary."

She nods slowly. "It was."

"And if you're not okay, you know. We're all," he clears his throat and looks horrifically uncomfortable, "here. If you need to talk. Or something."

She grins at him, feels this rush of affection for every single person there. "I'll keep that in mind."

They walk back outside and Spike catches her around the waist. "Ed yelled at me," he mutters snickering. "All I did was try and tell them the best way to get the coals hot."

She laughs. "Aw poor you," she says sarcastically, leans into him without touching the sling. "You should have known better."

He makes a face at her. "I'm injured?"

"How much longer are you planning on using that?" she says rolling her eyes.

He snickers, kisses her temple and mutters, "Until you stop giving in?"

She snorts like it's the cheesiest thing she's ever heard but she knows he sees the shiver that runs right through her. She waits until he's sitting down before she slides into the seat next to him and he reaches for her hand, kisses her fingers.

Dahlia shoots her a smirk across the table.

"I really don't want to interfere with the two of them," Sophie says with a sigh, eyes on Ed, "but I'd also like to eat sometime this century."

"They're not going to yell at _you_," Sam says helpfully.

Jules rolls her eyes. "Ignore him. He's hungry," she says grinning.

He makes a face at her but slides his arm around the back of her chair, lets Izzy climb over the armrests and stand on his lap. "Uncle Sam, can you lift me up?"

Winnie grins at the expression on Jules's face, like maybe her heart's melting a little bit.

"Why don't we go ask your Daddy to stop messing around with the barbeque and let us eat?" Sam says conspiratorially.

"Okay," Izzy says agreeably.

Dahlia snorts. "Getting a kid to do your dirty work?"

"Please let him," Sophie says mock-pleadingly.

They do eventually get the barbeque lit – actually, Ed stops trying to help and leaves Wordy and Boss to do it, unable to resist his daughter's pleas for food and for him to come play with her and the sight of two grown men rolling on the grass with the kids is almost too much for Dahlia.

"Seriously, this is so cute, I might have to barf," she says, rolling her eyes and reaching across Leah for the rum. "Hey, who tightened the cap?"

Spike snorts and Winnie sees the second he jostles his shoulder against the back of the chair, how he exhales slowly and then in again. She slides her fingers onto his forearm and he smiles at her, all reassuring. It does exactly nothing to alleviate the worry but she's also more than aware that he's still here with her, that they've spent the last few days having ridiculous life-affirming sex and that everyone else here needs a break from being terrified too. "Do you need help with the cap, Dahl?" she asks sarcastically.

"Bite me, Winnie," she says sweetly. "Anyone want me to mix them one?"

Jules lets out a laugh. "Think I learned my lesson the first time."

"I'm sticking with beer. I can't find the bottle opener though," Leah says with a sigh, poking around in the cooler at her feet. "Spike, you got another one inside?"

"Where's your tac knife?" Jules asks jokingly, starts searching in her purse for her Swiss Army.

"It going to gross you out if I open that with my teeth?" Dahlia asks, sipping daintily at her drink and motioning to Leah's beer bottle with a thrust of her chin.

Spike just looks at Winnie, shakes his head in disbelief and she laughs, lets him pull her close and kiss her temple while Leah hands her beer over to Dahlia.

"I wanna learn!" Lily says from where she's sitting with Shelley, eyes all wide. Marina lets out a smothered laugh.

Dahlia clears her throat, removes the cap from her mouth. "When you're older."

Winnie can feel Spike laughing beside her.

Later, when they've finally eaten and Spike's playing with her hair and Dahlia's doing her best to stop swearing around the kids even though she's several sheets to the wind at this point in the evening, Winnie glances up and sees Sophie positively grinning at her. She shrugs, can't help but grin back.

Izzy appears in between her and Spike's chairs, very seriously says, "A bug's chasing me. I know I'm not allowed to sit with Uncle Spike today but can I sit with you? Please?"

And it's really stupid but Winnie kind of feels her heart melt a little too, lets the little girl climb up and get comfortable, rest her head against Winnie's shoulder, chatter right into her ear. Spike grins, pushes a piece of hair out of Winnie's face, this look like he's happy too, leans over (even though she's told him a thousand times to stop leaning and bending and whatever else he's used to doing) and kisses her real quick. Turns back to talk to Sam and Winnie grins to herself, how everything feels exactly the way it's supposed to feel.

When she heads inside to grab dessert plates, she deposits a still-chattering Izzy into Ed's lap, Ed's face changing into something really gentle when he looks at his daughter. Sophie's at the counter assembling a tower of cookies that has Winnie drooling.

"You know how they say nothing's perfect? Like no life is supposed to be?" Sophie says, deftly fixing the icing in one spot on another one of the desserts.

Winnie glances at her, glances out the open back door and shrugs. "They do say that."

"I think we get perfect moments. You know what I mean?"

Winnie smiles, reaches into the drawer for extra forks. "I know exactly what you mean." She clears her throat. "You need me to carry one of those?"

"You guys need help?" Sam says from where he's standing in the doorway.

Sophie grins. "And that is precisely why we keep these boys around."

"To be mules?" He shrugs like that's possibly not a bad thing at all, smiles charmingly at her. "If that's the good icing, I'm sold."

Sophie raises her eyes to the ceiling theatrically and Winnie lets out a snort of laughter, shakes her head and follows them both back outside.

Sam sets down one of the desserts in front of Jules who says, "Sophie, these look _amazing_," her smile all bright. Sam brushes his fingers against her bare arm before he sits back down.

And Winnie thinks about summer evenings with the sun setting over the fence, thinks about planting flowers in the garden of a place she doesn't even live, of waking up on her days off and drinking her coffee while she's perched on Spike's lap with the paper spread across the table and he's pretending to read the headlines over her shoulder but is really just brushing his lips against her neck, thinks about love and family and perfect moments, puts the plates and forks down and slides one hand down over Spike's chest, kisses him on his cheek. He squeezes her fingers, grins at her and if someone said tomorrow that it was never getting better than today? Winnie's pretty sure she'd live out the rest of her life really fucking happy.

(Funny thing is, she thinks about Rob too and it doesn't make her heart seize in horror the way it used to, all the ways it could have been and how grateful she is that it's none of those ways. Thinks she might even be grateful for him, for all the things that happened, all the things that went wrong and all the things that didn't.)

Wordy has Allie and Izzy on his lap, is somehow feeding cake to both of them at the same time, glances over at Shel who's got the other two kids aqueezed into her chair with her, grins and she blushes and Ed's smiling teasingly up at Sophie, her eyes all soft when she smiles back. Boss and Marina have their heads close together and she laughs suddenly, Boss grinning at her as she tucks strands of hair out of her face and tries to look unimpressed. Sam's trying to cajole Jules into tasting some of the cake on his fork and she finally rolls her eyes, leans forward and eats it really quick like she's just trying to appease him but she also grins widely, shoves lightly at his shoulder and he sits back, looks all satisfied. Winnie knows that she's grinning, Spike's arm pulling her close to his chair, fingers rubbing at her hip as she rests her hand against his neck.

Dahlia reaches around and pinches Winnie hard on the ass. "Get that ridiculous look off your face right now," she commands, grinning at her widely and then hands her empty glass over. "Top me up?"

Winnie rolls her eyes and leans over for the rum, snags a cookie off the plate on her way back and jams it into her mouth.

"Don't skimp out, Win," Dahlia says, eyes all bright. "Not like I'm fucking driving over here."

"Watch your mouth," Izzy says primly and there's a pause before everyone starts laughing.

"Sorry." Dahlia waits until Izzy turns back to Wordy before she shakes her head. "She's scary," she mouths.

"You're a teacher," Spike points out helpfully.

"Please. Not of little people. They turn up when they're fourteen and believe me, that's bad enough. They've done just enough growing that they don't need you to handhold them and not enough that you actually _do_ need to handhold them."

"Good life choice for you then," he says with a snort.

Dahlia just laughs, shrugs while she grins up at Winnie.

The sun sets late, end of August and the air still warm and Jules flips on the white lights she and Spike strung at the start of the summer. Dahlia's helping Winnie light the citronella.

"I swear this shit does nothing," Dahlia mutters, glancing around like she's expecting the Potty-Mouth Police to make an appearance. "Fucking mosquitoes." She looks at Winnie. "He really okay?"

"What?"

She rolls her eyes. "Spike. You know. No lasting injuries right?" She has this expression on her face like she's horrified at herself for caring but Winnie knows her, probably too well and the point is, Dahlia cares for the same reasons Spike does and Winnie feels her heart catch, just a little. And it's not like she needed further proof that everything's different than it was five years ago but – it's there if she wants it.

"He's really okay."

"Yeah well. Good." She pulls a face and then shrugs. "So what's the deal? You guys book your tickets or not?"

Winnie snickers. "Yeah, Spike did, second day he was off. I still think it's insane to book a flight this early and I keep telling him we probably got ripped off but. It's done now."

"Who cares if you got ripped off or not? Italy in March? While the rest of us are getting splashed by slush? Take me the fuck with you."

Winnie rolls her eyes.

Dahlia looks at her, gives her this look she can't read. "You know if this was a few months ago, you'd have flipped your lid at planning that far in advance."

Winnie shrugs at her. "Probably." It stopped being a thing she cared about, worrying about stages, about serious or not serious; realized Dahlia had been right the whole time, that all those years spent as coworkers and then friends had done something to their trajectory and that probably what felt right was what _was _right. Now all she wants to do is enjoy it.

Dahlia turns her face a little, like she's looking up at the sky, but Winnie sees the smile on her face. "Your mom called me, by the way. Says I should come up with you guys for Thanksgiving. I didn't realize that was The Plan."

"Why don't you just say what you're thinking and get it out there?" Winnie says with another eye roll.

"I'm just saying. Is this how it's going to go? Your mom's totally going to be asking me the whole time why I haven't met any 'nice young men' yet. And I'm going to have to tell her it's because all of them are already taken by women who don't talk to them like they're idiots. And then we're going to have to get into the fact that getting married to any of the men who are on the market right now sounds like some sad version of Rosemary's Baby-"

"You're going to compare getting married to the child of Satan?" Winnie says skeptically. "I mean – you could try it but I don't think she's going to buy it."

"-and the whole time, she's going to be fussing over Spike. You should be worried too, she's not going to pay any attention to you whatsoever." Dahlia fiddles with the citronella coil and then rolls her eyes and drops it back on the ground.

"What a shame," Winnie says dryly.

Dahlia grins at her, all bright and nods slowly. "Well. Whatever. I said I'd bring pie. Obviously, it'll be from, you know, fucking Pusateri's but don't you dare tell her that."

Winnie doesn't bother pointing out that her mother's going to be able to tell it's store-bought from the very fact that it's a pie.

Dahlia clears her throat. "I um. I like seeing you happy. And I like seeing him happy. And we never have to speak about this ever again."

Winnie stares at her for a second, feels so indescribably lucky, for neighbourhood ballet classes and family, for friends with foul mouths, who've never had the faintest clue how to start giving up on the people they love, and then leans over and hugs her, completely ignores Dahlia's protests about why on earth she's touching her, doesn't she know it's too hot for this kind of thing.

And then later, when everyone's leaving, Winnie lays her head against Spike's shoulder, his uninjured arm wrapped around her waist, and she slides her fingers against his.

Wordy and Leah did most of the clean up and Dahlia ran a load through the dishwasher before she loaded it up for the second time so there's actually not that much left but Winnie knows the state of the floor is probably already driving Spike nuts (and yes, okay, sometimes, she'll drop a carrot on the floor just to see him twitch but she always picks it back up). She's about to get out the mop when he stops her, hand on hers. "I'll do it tomorrow."

She huffs. "Spike-"

"I know," he says patiently. "But I can handle cleaning the floor. So leave it." He kisses her until she forgets why she's even touching the handle of the mop in the first place, starts sliding his fingers up inside her shirt and she laughs.

"Upstairs."

He leans in, kisses her again and she ends up smiling against his mouth. As they walk up, she's ridiculously careful to give him enough room so that he doesn't brush against the wall. He rolls his eyes at her concern. "You realize that I've been up and down these stairs twenty times already today?"

"You're supposed to be resting." She makes a face at herself, is well aware she sounds like a broken record and that not only that, he's not stupid and is hardly going to do something to ensure he's off work even longer.

He rolls his eyes at her again, gets real serious as they walk through the bedroom door. "Win? I'm fine. I'm really fine."

She glances at him. "I know." She clears her throat, thinks about honesty, about the fact that she doesn't have to hide from him (about how she doesn't want to). "Um. You know, when I heard Jules shout, I thought-"

"I know." He clears his throat, all the playfulness disappearing from his face, like he's known this conversation was coming.

"And then you wouldn't answer-"

"I know."

She sighs. "It's the job. I know that." Of course she knows, it's part of her job too, to listen to all of it, to keep going no matter how terrified she is.

"I'm careful." He says it and it sounds like he's promising her something.

"I know that too."

"So?"

She shrugs. "Doesn't stop me from worrying. Just how it is."

He nods slowly like he's thinking it over. "You scared?"

"Of losing you?" She almost rolls her eyes, like of course she is, how could she not be, but she thinks about that, thinks about all the things she used to be scared of and how everything ended up getting switched around in her head and probably in her heart, too. Thinks it's better this way. (Knows it is.) "All the time."

He kisses her hard on the mouth, steals everything else she wanted to say, about how she's scared to lose him, yes, but that she's never going to regret him, never going to regret _them_, not now and not ever, that even if it ends, no matter _how_ it ends, she'll always be glad.

But she kind of thinks that maybe, this time, he really does know exactly what she means.

And in any case, if he doesn't, she can tell him tomorrow, maybe over breakfast.


End file.
